Harry Potter and the Call of Magic
by DamWaters
Summary: A cry for help leads Harry to the Wizarding world at a young age. With this life-changing moment comes a new world of adventure for The-Boy-Who-Lived. Friends and enemies will be made along the way as Harry discovers his destiny, and decides what to make of a world that calls him a hero. AU. Eventual Harry/Many. Pairings decided. TW for scenes of abuse.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1: A Fateful Letter

Prologue: All Hollows Eve

A cool mist clung to the ground as the sun set on October 31. No sound or trace of movement belied the presence of a man approaching the gate of a cottage in the old village known as Godric's Hollow. Had it not been for a slight miscalculation on the man's part, he would have gone completely unnoticed, invisible under the strongest of magics. However, in his arrogance, he underestimated the cleverness of a woman he deemed his inferior in every way. As such, he was unaware that his presence had triggered a ward and he was now known to the small family he currently hunted.

Inside, a young man glanced meaningfully at his wife, who had suddenly stopped her pacing with a gasp. "He's here, isn't he?" A nod was the woman's only response before she ran to him and hugged him forcefully, tears already forming in her emerald green eyes. Without a word, she separated from him and dashed up the stairs to the nursery where their son, now fifteen months old, stared back at her, almost as if he understood that something was amiss. In the room below, James Potter prepared to greet their most unwelcome guest.

An explosion ripped the front door from its hinges, and Lord Voldemort stepped across the threshold. His voice was smooth and strong as he taunted the man he found waiting for him. "Well, Prongs, we meet again. It does not do to put so much trust in friends, it would seem."

James remained impassive. Inwardly, however, he was heartbroken by the betrayal he knew Voldemort was referencing. Never taking his eyes off of Voldemort, he prepared to defend his family. It was why he had remained downstairs. He had no notions of survival, he only hoped to buy his wife and son a little time.

When he sensed no response was forthcoming, Lord Voldemort attacked. "Crucio!" he shouted, sending a pale red curse speeding toward James. James quickly dodged, a spell already forming on his lips as the curse exploded behind him. " _Reducto, Incarcerous, Protego Maxima_!" he roared. Voldemort's high, cruel laugh was the only response as a shield flared wordlessly into existence and deflected the two spells, forcing James to take cover behind his own shield charm as the living room was destroyed around him. Blood red eyes narrowed in disappointment as the opening spell fire closed. Respectable auror though he was, James Potter had never been faced with an opponent who could sneer at the power of his casting. Still, it was an opening volley hardly expected to take down any hardened criminal, let alone any competent dark wizard. Voldemort was several times more powerful than even his most dangerous followers, however, and was hardly threatened by such spells.

James had not been called a transfiguration prodigy for nothing, and now the rubble around him would serve in his next attack. A few slashes of his wand as he rolled away from a sickly yellow curse turned broken furniture into a pack of wolves. Voldemort pierced each of their skulls in quick succession, still mocking his opponent all the while. A sick sort of humour occurred to James as he transfigured hundreds of rats and sent them all to a death by fire from the Dark Lord's wand. In response, Voldemort transfigured the ropes James had conjured earlier into snakes that finished off the last of the rats before turning on James. Hastily transfigured stones crushed several serpent skulls, but one slipped past the attack and sank its fangs into his leg. A grunt of pain escaped James and he stumbled, now knowing his death would come from venom if not spell fire. He twisted and cast a silent blasting curse that missed his opponent, though barely, and called forth another shield as a wand was trained on him once more.

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort hissed, his voice dripping with malice. A blinding green light hit James squarely in the chest, and he knew no more.

Lily waited for Voldemort to appear, having heard the soft thump of James' body hitting the floor. She stood firm, shielding her son as her most hated enemy glided up the stairs. Red eyes met green and there was a flicker of hesitation before the monster in front of her spoke. "Step aside, foolish girl. There is no reason for you to die like your husband." For her part, Lily did nothing but continue to stare into the now seething red eyes before her. "Your life has been spoken for, mudblood, step aside!" Voldemort raised his wand in warning. He was not going to repeat himself again. With a single tear making its way down her face, Lily whispered "Not Harry. Please not Harry. Just kill me, not Harry. I love him." The last three words were spoken resolutely, as if they would matter to the man about to kill them both. Voldemort was frustrated by her refusal, and though he could have forced her aside, the Dark Lord was incensed. Another burst of green light, and Lily Potter joined her husband in death. She had not even drawn her wand.

Green eyes much like the ones he had met a moment ago stared up at Voldemort curiously. So, this is the child who would have grown to rival my power, Voldemort mused as he looked down at the last Potter. A pity he'll never get the chance. A soft green light formed at the end of Voldemort's wand, in tune with his intentions as ever.

"Avada Kedavra"

A strangled shout was ripped from Voldemort's lips as the spell tore across the child's forehead like lightning and raced back to strike Voldemort's chest. A pain like no other prevented Voldemort from making any further sounds as his body and soul were rent apart. In the following silence, the child looked to his mother, waiting in vain for her to comfort him.

* * *

Before the attack had even ended, a young man in London began racing to Godric's Hollow. A Marauder's bond, formed between childhood friends, had been severed, and Sirius Black feared the worst had befallen his brother in all but blood. His mood worsened when he finally arrived at the cottage, his enchanted motorcycle tossed aside immediately. The signs of forced entry were apparent, as the wards had collapsed, and the doorway looked like an open wound on the house, ragged and burnt at the edges. The far corner of the cottage was in ruins, blown apart by whatever dark magic had been used to end the lives of the family that was meant to be safest here.

Sirius knew that James was dead even before he saw the body. The severing of the bond they shared was proof enough of that. It was obvious that a killing curse had finished him, but small cuts covered James' body, likely from the debris that the explosive spells had created. Voldemort would have considered it a waste to spill noble blood, Sirius thought ruefully as he kneeled beside his oldest friend. He wept with inconsolable grief, knowing that his only true family was now dead because he had convinced them to trust another. It should have been me. I would have died to protect them. A soft sound alerted Sirius to another's presence in the house and quicker than a thought he was standing with his wand at the ready. If Voldemort was still there, Sirius was going to have his vengeance.

Following the sound, Sirius sneaked up the stairs, unsure what he would find in the rooms above. Peering around the corner, he saw the destruction he had noticed before from outside. The master bedroom was mostly intact, though there was a large hole blasted through the wall that separated it from the nursery. The nursery itself was all but gone, the roof and far wall having collapsed from the damage sustained. In the center of the room lay another of his friends, even more peaceful in death than her husband. Whether by accident or design, Lily's body rested in the one spot that Sirius could see was untouched by the explosion.

As he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, the sound became clearer, and far less threatening. A soft cry nearly froze Sirius is shock before he abandoned all caution and ran to find its source. There, sitting in his crib, was Sirius' godson, Hadrian James Potter.

The area around the boy was unscathed, just as Lily's body appeared to be. Sirius reached to pick up his godson with reverence, as though afraid he might find himself in a dream. Crying tears of joy now, he cradled the boy to his chest, noting with astonishment the lightning scar that seemed to carry a faint green glow.

A soft pop alerted Sirius to a new presence on the property, though he recognized the man at once from his vantage point. Only one person he knew was quite so large, after all. He looked down at Harry, who was now sleeping in his arms, and made his way to meet the new arrival.

"Hello Hagrid."

Immediately the huge man raised a pink umbrella in Sirius' direction. The half-giant's stance was clearly defensive, and he looked as threatening as possible, despite his choice of weapon. When Sirius made no move to attack, he lowered the umbrella.

"Thought ya' migh' 'ta been You-Know-Who," Hagrid said, upon recognizing Sirius for who he was.

"Given the circumstances, I can't fault your reaction, Hagrid, but tell me, how did you know to come?"

"Dumbledore said something about the wards fallin', and told me to check in." Hagrid looked pointedly at Sirius, as though to ask the same question in return. Sirius merely repositioned Hadrian in his arms to reveal a tattoo and said, "Marauders' bond." Hagrid seemed to understand, having known Sirius in his time as a student. The movement brought the child to Hagrid's attention and the man's eyes went wide as he looked from the bundle in Sirius' arms to Sirius and back again.

"Harry?" he finally managed to choke out. "You can't mean to take him, Sirius. Dumbledore should be lookin' after him now that Lily and James are…." His voice grew heavy and he reached into his coat and pulled out a quilt to blow his nose.

"I intended to bring him to Dumbledore myself, actually. There is something I must take care of." Sirius' tone became more menacing as he finished. He shook his head and continued. "Now that you're here, I suppose it would be best to let you take him, though I do intend for Harry to live with me once I get settled. I am his godfather, after all." Hagrid nodded in agreement and held out his arms to take Harry with him. Sirius offered Hagrid his motorcycle, once he had charmed it to match the man's size. After he watched Hagrid depart with his godson, Sirius apparated away to confront a traitorous friend.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A Fateful Letter**

A tabby cat leapt onto the garden wall at number four, Privet Drive. The residents of number four had never owned such a creature, as they considered pets an unnecessary responsibility. Vernon Dursley was perhaps the most vocal on the matter, but this was well within character. A rather seriously overweight man, he was loud about most everything, and his stature made him hard to ignore in any case. He was especially loud about things he disliked, with one distinct exception.

Petunia Dursley was another matter entirely. Thin and nearly as tall as her husband, she said very little in public, and spent most of her words praising her son, Dudley. To the Dursleys, there was no child worthier of spoiling than their son, and Dudley took after his father in both size and temper. In all other matters of conversation, Mrs. Dursley was tight lipped, as if afraid her tongue might slip. The Dursleys had a secret, and were terrified that it may one day be revealed.

Mrs. Dursley had a sister (of whom she rarely ever spoke) and a brother-in-law (whom she never spoke of at all). The Potters were entirely unlike the Dursleys, and as such, Petunia did her best to avoid them and their kind altogether. It was for this reason that she knew nothing of her nephew, whom she would have ignored anyway.

The tabby cat began to observe number four and its residents as the new day began. Insofar as cats could be disappointed, this one certainly was. Though the cat never moved from the wall, or even seemed to move at all, she was intensely aware of the happenings within the house. The male Dursleys did nothing to hide their habits, and they were both conspicuously vocal in their own way. The cat heard all sorts of information from the Dursleys as they went about their morning business, and none of it seemed to please her. The adults were unpleasant in the extreme, prone to anger at the slightest provocation, only to stop when their son seized their attention. For his part, Dudley seemed very skilled at this childish method of distraction. Dudley was nearly two years old, and it seemed his vocabulary was limited to simple demands and some concerning expletives. The cat curled her lip in disgust as she forced herself to stay put. She was sure there would be a good explanation for the Dursleys involvement, though she could not fathom what it might be.

It was at that moment that Mr. Dursley made his exit from the house, complaining loudly about the weather. He noticed the cat on his garden wall and immediately shouted "shoo!" expecting to scare it off. He took a step closer and tried again before he noticed the attention he was receiving from his neighbors. "Must be a stray," he said to no one in particular. Now complaining about cats, he made his way to his car and hurried off to work. Mr. Dursley was the director of a manufacturing plant, called Grunnings, and always arrived late. No one really seemed to mind his absence in the mornings.

A small owl landed on the wall beside the cat, as if lacking any basic survival instinct. Looking steadily at the cat, it dropped a note it had been carrying in its beak and took off again with a satisfied hoot. The cat herself, having seen this behavior countless times, merely paused her observations to read the note left in front of her. Reading, of course, was not a behavior found in normal cats, but this one seemed to manage quite well. In graceful calligraphy, the note read "Minerva, I arrive at midnight -A." Glancing at the sky, the cat, presumably named Minerva, as the note was addressed to her, guessed the time to be nearly noon. Surely, she could wait another twelve hours. She stretched and yawned, returning once more to purely feline behavior, and resumed her vigil.

Nothing of note happened during the following few hours except the passage of several more owls overhead. Though none bothered Minerva directly, she flicked her ears in annoyance as more residents of the neighborhood took notice.

When Mr. Dursley returned home later that evening he paid no attention to the rather odd cat at all. As he passed by her spot on the wall, he muttered frantically "… good for nothing… freaks in cloaks… the Potters… mustn't say a word to Petunia."

Minerva hissed as she heard the names mentioned. Of course, she knew the Potters. Everyone did. Though she had been sitting rigidly on the wall all day, even she had heard the rumors circulating about that family in particular. It was the reason she was at number four, as Hagrid had told her this house was somehow important. Such news went a long way toward explaining the constant stream of owls, but Petunia's name meant something else altogether. That name was known by only a few. Only those closest to her younger sister, Lily Potter. Immediately anxious, knowing now that she was in the presence of the few muggles she truly despised, the cat leapt from the wall to listen in more closely. However, true to his word, Mr. Dursley said nothing more on the subject. Now uneasy due to the shock of her discovery, Minerva paced along the wall, impatiently waiting for midnight. She had a feeling she knew what was happening and she didn't approve in the least.

At exactly midnight, a faint crack echoed down the street. From the shadows stepped a man unlike any other that had been seen on Privet Drive. Dressed in robes that trailed the ground, with a beard nearly as long, Albus Dumbledore made his way toward number four, eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. As he passed each streetlamp, a tiny silver device in his hand clicked and drew the light into itself, leaving the street in total darkness. The cat was unbothered, as she could see just fine in the dark. She seemed to meet the man's gaze and he nodded in polite recognition.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said pleasantly. He took a moment to put the silver device into a pocket in his robes. When he looked up again, a rather severe-looking woman had taken the cat's place. She wore robes much like Dumbledore's except that hers were emerald rather than red. She looked especially anxious now that she was no longer alone. A full day of waiting had made her understandably tense. Dumbledore continued speaking, knowing what information his old friend desired.

"I am afraid the rumors are true, Minerva. All of them, as far as I can tell." He spoke solemnly, his voice betraying his emotions. "Lily and James are dead. Voldemort found them, meaning we can assume the Fidelius failed. Hadrian was found alive in what was left of the cottage. Hagrid will be bringing him here shortly."

That seemed to startle Minerva and she shifted into an even more attentive position. "You think it wise to trust Hagrid with such a task?" she asked fearfully.

Dumbledore answered her with a touch of anger. "I would trust Hagrid with my life." His tone gave Minerva pause, and she dipped her head in acknowledgement. While she did not trust the half-giant absolutely, she did trust Dumbledore, and that was enough for her.

As if on cue, a loud rumbling interrupted the two professors. As the sound grew louder, a single headlight appeared in the sky and flooded the street with new light, momentarily blinding Minerva, who had not looked away in time. The sound ceased as an enormous motorcycle, ridden by an equally enormous man, pulled into the driveway of number four.

"Hello Professor Dumbledore, sir. Professor McGonagall."

"Hello Hagrid," Dumbledore replied. "I trust that all is well?"

"Yes, Professor. Little Harry here fell asleep just as we was flyin' over Bristol." He received a nod in response.

"Excellent work Hagrid. Was there anything else?"

"Yes, sir. Harry's been cursed, but I dunno how. Sirius Black was bringin' him out when I got there. He's got a nasty cut on his head, but he wasn't bleeding or nothin'."

"Show me. I will do what I can for him, though if he truly did survive the killing curse as we suspect, I doubt even I will be able to help fully."

Dumbledore drew his wand as he spoke, and he became more serious as Hagrid removed the child from his bundle of blankets. The wound Hagrid had mentioned was the first thing Dumbledore saw as he inspected the boy. As Hagrid had said, the cut itself was clean. Dumbledore immediately began waving his wand over the area, casting diagnostic charms even as he attempted to close the jagged gash. After several minutes, the mark had faded to a gleaming white scar, but would heal no further.

Dumbledore slumped against the garden wall, surprised by the amount of energy he had used, and concerned by the traces of magic he detected around the new scar. That would require some investigation when he returned to Hogwarts. Knowing Voldemort as he did, Dumbledore was prepared for the worst.

Professor McGonagall broke the ensuing silence, grimly looking at the house they stood just outside of. She felt her suspicions about their location were confirmed, given Harry's arrival. She addressed Dumbledore directly. "Would you care to explain why we are at the home of Lily's sister, Albus? You know as well as I that the two did not get along after Lily joined our world."

Dumbledore was solemn as he answered, "the boy will require protection from those who would wish him harm. There are many of Voldemort's followers who would not hesitate to take revenge for their fallen master." If Dumbledore noticed the look of panic on Hagrid's face as he named the dark wizard, he did not mention it. Minerva fared slightly better, though she too visibly shuddered at the name. Albus continued as if unaware of their reactions. "The relationship between Lily Potter and Petunia Dursley will provide significant defense to Harry, as they share blood. The wards I can set here would protect him from almost all danger. Living here will also prevent him from being influenced by the fame that will surely be thrust upon him, until he is ready."

With his explanation given, Dumbledore drew a vial from his robes and pricked Harry's finger to draw blood. He healed the boy, who had woken at the slight pain, and used several drops from the vial to coat a stone with runes carved into it. He used magic to activate the blood wards anchored by the stone and buried it. He layered additional protections around the property until he seemed satisfied with his work.

Dumbledore returned to his companions and gingerly removed Harry from Hagrid's arms. He felt a surprising rush of magic as Harry latched onto his finger. Dumbledore's concern returned, knowing that such strong magic was likely to draw unwanted attention as the boy grew. With a quickly muttered spell and a discreet wave of his wand, Dumbledore felt the energy decrease significantly. Satisfied, he set the child on the front step, bundled in blankets and once again fast asleep.

Professor McGonagall and Hagrid had stood back, and when Dumbledore returned to them, they both turned to leave. Hagrid climbed onto the motorcycle. The redness around his eyes and slight shaking of his shoulders suggested he had been crying as he watched the scene unfold. Professor McGonagall simply left the newly warded property, turned on the spot, and disappeared. She had forgotten her reasons for objecting to Dumbledore's plan, and decided that it was likely for the best.

Having dismissed his colleagues, Dumbledore returned to where Harry was settled and pulled a bit of parchment from his robes. He left the note addressed to Petunia in the folds of Harry's blankets, sure it would be found with him in the morning. Though he agreed with Minerva's assessment of the Dursleys, he believed the arrangement was necessary. Dumbledore intended to return when the boy was ready to attend Hogwarts. He believed Harry would find a home here, given time. How very wrong he was.


	2. Birthdays and Broken Things

**Chapter 2: Birthdays and Broken Things**

Petunia rapped on the door of his cupboard under the stairs. "Get up, Freak!" She heard movement behind the door and swung it open to reveal a small boy with matted hair. He wore an enormous shirt that hung past his knees. He did not look up as he muttered "Yes, Aunt Petunia." He shuffled to the kitchen, holding one arm awkwardly against his chest, and began to prepare a breakfast for his relatives. Today was his cousin Dudley's ninth birthday, and his aunt had left specific instructions for a large meal, with all the family's favorite dishes. An hour later, the boy returned silently to his cupboard, a piece of toast held tight in each fist.

As he savored the scraps he had been able to take, the Freak beneath the stairs waited for the Dursleys to leave. Dudley was always treated to an outing on his birthday, leaving the house empty till after sunset. The light coming from the grate in the cupboard door allowed the boy to see the countdown to school that he had marked on the wall with a pencil. Normally he was not allowed pencils, but this one had been stuck in his leg by Dudley and his friends when they had caught him on the way home from school the year before, and neither Vernon nor Petunia felt like removing it. In the otherwise empty cupboard, the pencil was the boy's hidden treasure.

Unlike normal children, the Freak could not wait for school to begin, even if it came with the fear of Dudley's gang. There, the boy had a different name, Harry Potter. He learned that on his first day of primary school, as he had waited mutely to hear the name Freak in the roll call. When he had told the teacher as much, she had scolded him for joking around. She had, of course, been told by his relatives that he was nothing but a trouble maker. Four years later his reputation had only grown worse, but it certainly beat spending all day in his cupboard.

At school, Harry could eat the meals provided, and he was even allowed to shower in the locker rooms after physical education class. The Dursleys usually refused to have him waste water at home, and he reveled in the feel of warm water running down his back. He was especially happy to learn things in his classes, as he knew being smart sometimes kept him safe from Dudley, who never cared to learn anything if he couldn't use it to hurt Harry.

Harry's very favorite part of the day was the hour following lunch in which he was allowed to visit the school library. It was there that he learned the most, all on his own time, and all by his own choice. Stories of ancient gods and heroes were his absolute favourite, and he had read every book he could find on the subject. The librarian, one of the few adults who seemed to tolerate him, even ordered books from the city public library, with the condition that they remain in her care. It was happy thoughts like those that entertained the boy in the cupboard as he sketched on his wall, the soft scratching making the only sound for hours in the empty home. The Freak named Harry looked happily at his finished drawing as he laid down to sleep. Even his broken arm seemed to hurt less and for the first time in a year, he fell asleep in peace.

The next morning, Harry woke before sunrise and waited for his aunt, as always. The day following Dudley's birthday was always one of the most difficult, as the Dursleys knew they had given the "freak" a day off. Aunt Petunia soon came down the stairs and sent Harry to weed the garden before the neighbors woke up. Most didn't know that Harry lived with the Dursleys and that's how they liked it.

The weather was already hot and soon Harry was sweating from the exertion. Moving to the back yard to avoid the prying eyes of the residents of Privet Drive, Harry wiped his face on his shirt and sat for a moment in the shade of the hydrangea bush. Years of living with the Dursleys had sharpened Harry's sense of danger and it gave him a sudden compulsion to move from his resting spot. As he jumped up he heard a small voice saying, "ssstupid boy digging up my home!" Harry looked around, bewildered, until his eyes fell on a small snake staring at him from where he had been sitting just a moment ago.

"Did you just speak?" he asked, wondering if perhaps he had been in the sun for too long.

The snake cocked its head at the sound of Harry's voice before responding hesitantly, "I apologize, Ssspeaker, I did not mean to ssscare you."

Harry jumped back in shock with a shout that drew Aunt Petunia's attention. The back window slammed open and she glared at Harry before she spotted the snake in front of him. With a shriek, she flung the pan she was holding at the snake and hit it as it turned to face her. The snake struggled to move away, hissing loudly, "Ssspeaker help me!" Harry had no idea how to make sense of the situation, but he allowed the snake to wrap around his arm as Aunt Petunia slammed the window shut and ran to the yard. No doubt Harry would be punished, though for the life of him he couldn't understand what had happened. The snake stayed coiled around his arm, hidden in the sleeve, as Harry was dragged by the ear to his cupboard and thrown in unceremoniously. Petunia slammed the door on Harry's leg once before he quickly withdrew further into the cupboard and was locked in without another word. When his heart stopped pounding he took a deep breath and whispered, "what the bloody hell just happened?" The snake hissed in a way Harry could only interpret as laughter.

Two full days passed before Harry was finally allowed to leave the cupboard. In that time, he had learned quite a bit from the snake and he was confused by more than half of it. The snake, who asked to be named Balthasar, refused to call Harry anything but Speaker, which he said was a sign of respect. When Harry questioned him further, he discovered that being a Speaker was a rare talent among magical people and gave him power over intelligent serpents. After two days of hearing wild stories about wizards and an unseen world of magic, Harry couldn't decide whether to believe it, or if he had finally gone insane from his time with the Dursleys. When he said as much to Balthasar, the snake paused in his storytelling and asked Harry in a deadly calm whisper, "Have you ever made sssomething happen, sssomething you couldn't explain, when you were sad or angry?" When Harry said that he hadn't, Balthasar told him that he must be a wizard in order to speak to snakes. Thinking harder about anything unusual in his past, Harry decided that the only thing he could consider strange was how quickly he recovered after beatings from his relatives or injuries at school. Balthasar was livid at the casual acceptance of abuse, but told Harry he could simply be a squib, a person born with too little magic to use it properly. By the time Aunt Petunia came to free him, Harry had decided that being a squib was better than having no magic at all, if only so that he could survive life with the Dursleys.

Balthasar mostly stayed with Harry and would hunt whenever he was sent outside to work in the garden. For the first time in his life, Harry Potter had a friend, one who just happened to be a talking corn snake from a world of fairy tales. It was, as far as Harry was concerned, the best thing that had ever happened to him. On July 31st, Harry's ninth birthday, the good times came to a very sudden end.

Vernon Dursley was not a patient man, and he knew it. In fact, he was proud of what others might call his failing because it intimidated people and made them unlikely to test him. Beginning seven and a half years ago, his patience had been tested almost daily by the demented, scarred infant that had shown up on his doorstep. Vernon had thought he had done quite a good job torturing the freakishness out of his nephew over the years, but the past few weeks had brought about an unwelcome change in the boy. The freak no longer seemed as afraid of him, even daring to look him in the eyes on several occasions. It seemed impossible that his treatment of the boy had allowed for this rebellion. He had whipped and beaten and even once branded the boy at every sign of abnormality. Now, it seemed that somehow the submissiveness he had tried so hard to establish was deteriorating, making way for a character he hardly recognized. Vernon Dursley was afraid, and he hated the feeling. He decided to get rid of the Freak once and for all.

Petunia Dursley always hated the last day of July. It only served as a reminder of the fact that she was forced to shelter the child of her wicked sister and her good-for-nothing husband. He was proof that her sister had made a life for herself with some wealthy politician's son from her own freakish world, and left Petunia behind to settle for the likes of Vernon. She hated the boy even more than she hated her sister, if possible, and treating him like a slave was a pleasurable irony, since she knew he would have been spoiled by his own kind. As was her tradition, she left Privet Drive early that day to drink away all thoughts of magic and her own rotten luck.

Harry woke up the morning of his birthday with the usual sense of dread. Birthdays were spent alone with Vernon and Dudley, who were far more inclined to physical confrontation than Petunia. He knew he was about to pay for his recent rebellious streak and spent a brief moment wishing Balthasar was a venomous. The one benefit of the day was that both male Dursleys were inclined to sleep in long after his aunt had left for the day, and Harry had time to brace himself for the coming storm.

Light filtered into the cupboard through the grate as Harry waited, illuminating the finished drawing on the wall. To Harry, it looked a bit like a character he had seen in one of Dudley's Star Wars movies, with wrinkled skin and long drooping ears. Harry liked his drawing better. He felt that it was somehow familiar to him, though he knew he had never met such a creature. Perhaps the wizarding world had something like it, but he had never asked Balthasar. A loud grunt from upstairs pulled Harry from his musing and he began fidgeting as his tormentors awakened.

Slow heavy steps crashed on the stairs above him as his uncle's voice called out. "Today is the day you get what's coming for you, Freak. Nobody here is going to miss dealing with your freakishness when I've finished with you, your worthless sack of shit." Vernon reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in front of the cupboard. He didn't bother with the lock as he kicked the door in, smashing the thin wood against the back wall. Small chunks of wood cut across Harry's face and arms, leaving slivers as they dug into his skin. Balthasar cowered behind him, wishing he could help his friend, but knowing it would only be sealing his own doom.

Vernon had never once entered the cupboard before, fearing it contained too much of his nephew's freakishness, but now he reached into the corner and grabbed Harry by the throat, heaving him up into the low ceiling and knocking his head on the corner of the stairs above. Harry's eyes glazed over as he struggled to remain conscious. A thin trail of blood from his scalp ran down his forehead into his eye. He was slammed back to the floor as his uncle's fist smashed into his chest, cracking a few ribs in the process. Harry was sure his uncle was trying to kill him this time, and he was going to die a painful death in his cupboard. He had never seen Vernon so exultant in his rage. He looked once at Balthasar curled in the darkest corner of the room, and with pain tearing his lung, Harry yelled for help, wishing without hope that someone would hear him. As he blacked out, he heard a sharp crack and wondered briefly which bone had just been broken.


	3. The-Boy-Who-Lived

**Chapter 3: The-Boy-Who-Lived**

The voices that echoed around Harry sounded unlike anything he had ever heard. They were calming and concerned as soft hands drifted across his skin. Unfamiliar words were whispered each time the hands paused over his many injuries, both recent and long forgotten. The smell of fresh linens surrounded Harry, with occasional notes of rough chemicals that seemed somewhat out of place. Harry didn't know how long he was being healed, but finally all the pain was numbed, and he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Harry fought to stay asleep, knowing he would have to face the Dursleys again when he woke, but finally he was unable to rest another minute and slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was how bright the room was, forcing him to squint at the harsh light. The second thing he noticed was how large the room was, easily the size of the first floor at the Dursleys, and with odd bits of equipment pushed against the walls. Finally, a soft gasp drew Harry's attention to the strangest thing in the room, a small creature with bat-like ears and soft wrinkled skin. It looked almost exactly like his drawing from the cupboard under the stairs. Had he been able to think clearly, Harry might have been surprised. As it were, he was simply glad to be in this new place, hopefully far away from the dark memory of Privet Drive.

The little creature vanished with a crack like a whip and returned a moment later with a smiling young man, who looked to be around twenty, in a white robe. The man immediately approached Harry where he lay on a long bed and introduced himself. "Nice to see you awake, Mr. Potter. My name is Jonas Prim, the Healer in charge of your case." When he noticed Harry still staring at the creature behind him, he continued, "ah yes, that is Minnie, the house-elf who responded to your emergency call." Harry could only nod in response. At least he knew what that thing was called now, though he still had no idea why he would recognize one enough to sketch it.

Healer Prim handed Harry a small cup of blue liquid and told him to drink. "That's a calming draught, Mr. Potter. It's a potion that I need you to take it before I ask a few questions related to your rather extensive injuries." Harry took a sip, surprised by the flavor of peaches, before downing the rest of the cup. Almost immediately, he felt more at ease and relaxed against the pillows behind him.

Healer Prim smiled. "Excellent. Now, would you care to tell me how you ended up here? I can promise anything you tell me will be between us. I have taken a Healer's Oath to prevent me from sharing your secrets."

"My uncle… well I guess my aunt and cousin too… they hurt me but told me to stay quiet about it. If I talked they'd make it worse, and no one really seemed to believe me the few times I tried. Last thing I remember is my uncle coming into my cupboard and hitting my head on the ceiling. I was trying to keep Balthasar safe. Is he here too? He was in the cupboard with me." Harry felt panic rising against the effects of the potion he had taken. "He's my only friend, sir, I need to go back for him!" Healer Prim placed his hand on Harry's chest to hold him down. Harry flinched at the contact but allowed himself to be restrained.

The house-elf, Minnie, said, "there isn't being any others but Mister Potter and the bad man in the cupboard, sir."

Harry realized why the healer and house-elf were looking at him oddly now. "Balthasar is a snake. He was hiding in the corner when my uncle came in. I don't know if he stayed there."

The healer gave Minnie permission to check for the snake and she left with the customary crack. A minute later she returned with Balthasar coiled around her arm and lowered him gently onto Harry's bed. Immediately Balthasar nestled in the sheets between Harry's chest and arm and looked him directly in the face. "You are sssafe now, Ssspeaker. This place is part of the magical world." Harry nodded, still calmer than normal thanks to the potion and replied, "I feel safe here. Do you think they will send me back? My uncle wouldn't fail to kill me if given another chance." The small crash caused Harry's head to spin towards the noise. Healer Prim was laying on the ground. Minnie was looking at Harry with shock evident on her face. "Mister Harry Potter is being a snakey mouth!" she muttered, before fainting next to the healer. Balthasar hissed out his laughter and, after a minute, Harry couldn't help but join him.

When Healer Prim came to, he waved a thin stick at Minnie and said " _enervate_." Minnie woke and thanked him with a bow before returning her attention to Harry. "Mister Potter must not be speaking to the snakes anymore. No not at all. People will be thinking Mister Potter is a bad wizard if they is hearing him!" Harry turned to the man for an explanation.

"Harry, many people believe that speaking to snakes is a sign of dark magic. History is full of examples, the most famous being Salazar Slytherin. Even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a parslemouth. That's what we call people who speak parsletongue, or snake language."

"I'm sorry, but who is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? And why do you make it seem like I should know these things? I never even knew about magic until I met Balthasar about a month ago."

Both Minnie and Healer Prim looked confused. They shared a look before Healer Prim spoke to him. "Harry, do you even know who you are?"

That seemed like a strange question to Harry, but he answered anyway, assuming they were checking his memory since he hit his head pretty hard. "I'm Harry Potter. My parents were killed in a car crash, which is how I ended up with the Dursleys. Balthasar says I must be a squib because I can talk to snakes but can't do magic. I think that's about it, really," he finished quickly. He didn't like the way he was being looked at, with some strange combination of confusion and pity. The potion must have been fading fast because he was getting more and more anxious. He had a feeling he was in for a surprise and surprises had never been positive in his experience.

Slowly Healer Prim began telling Harry a story about a wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort. The healer shivered when he said the name and explained how this man became known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. It seemed the whole wizarding world feared him, even though he hadn't been seen in nearly eight years. The greatest shock came when Healer Prim revealed that Harry himself was responsible for ending the threat and was known to all magical people as The-Boy-Who-Lived. The scar on Harry's forehead was not from a car crash, but from the failed killing curse. After all, wizards didn't drive cars unless they lived among non-magical people, otherwise known as muggles, and his parents were both well known in the magical world. Harry's story and his scar were what made him famous.

By the time the story ended with a man named Albus Dumbledore promising the wizarding world that Harry was safe and in a happy home, Harry was barely listening. He took huge gulps of air and began to cry. Years of tears held back in fear of punishment seemed to break free all at once and Harry buckled under the magnitude of what he had learned. Healer Prim held him as he cried himself to sleep and gently trickled another potion into his mouth to keep any nightmares away. Balthasar wrapped around Harry protectively, wishing once more that he could do more for his friend and master.

Harry woke the next morning feeling ashamed of his outburst. He felt weak for showing his emotions so obviously. It seemed that he was supposed to be some kind of hero in this new world he was part of, and the heroes he'd read about didn't cry like that. He took a few breaths to clear his mind and keep his emotions masked like he usually did. When the healer returned to check up on him, Harry's face was unreadable.

Now that he was in control of himself, Harry wanted more details about his own fame and the workings of the wizarding world. Since Healer Prim was a muggleborn wizard, he asked Harry if he'd like to meet someone who had grown up in the wizarding world and understood its culture better. Harry agreed only when another oath of secrecy was promised. Healer Prim, who had asked Harry to call him Jonas, left Minnie to watch over him. Within the hour, Jonas returned with a friend from school, another wizard about as old as he was. This man had long flaming red hair and an earring that looked like some sort of fang.

"Hello Harry, my name is Bill Weasley. Jonas told me you wanted to hear more about our world, since its likely where you'll be staying from now on." Harry's heart soared at the last part, reassured that he could stay away from the Dursleys. Even if he knew next to nothing about magic, it had to be better than life with them.

"Of course! I have so many questions, but I don't really even know what to ask about first. I know almost nothing about this stuff and I guess I don't really even know myself. Maybe we could start with the school Jonas says he knows you from?"

Bill grinned widely. "You want to know about Hogwarts?" he paused for dramatic effect and Harry was tempted to roll his eyes at the showmanship. Bill reminded him of the people on the Dursleys' television. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the largest magical school in Europe. It's somewhere in Scotland, but magic keeps its exact location a secret. Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by four of the greatest wizards and witches ever to live. Their names were Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Each Founder has a house named in their honor and students are sorted into the houses at the beginning of first year. My whole family has been in Gryffindor for ages, and my twin brothers are starting this year. Any questions so far?"

Harry thought for a moment before asking, "how come Slytherin has his own house? Wasn't he a bad guy?"

"Well there are some legends that say he hated muggles and muggleborns, and one legend even says he left some sort of monster hidden in the school to attack them, but most of that is just stories. He gets his bad reputation because he could speak to snakes and people sorted into his house have given it a dark record in the past few centuries. You-Know-Who was a Slytherin, they say, but no record of that exists since he likely changed his name."

"I guess that makes sense. It's kind of wrong to judge a whole house just for a few bad wizards though." Bill nodded in agreement while Harry decided on his next question. "What do wizards do after school? I mean, Jonas is a healer, but there must be other kinds of jobs."

"Most wizards work in family owned businesses after they graduate, but some become masters of certain kinds of magic and create new spells. I became a curse-breaker, so I work for Gringotts, locating hidden treasure and undoing dangerous enchantments."

It seemed that every answer came with two more questions and Harry was having a hard time keeping up. "What is Gringotts?" he asked. It seemed like the simplest one of Harry's many questions.

"Gringotts is a wizarding bank run by goblins. We have a branch of the bank in Diagon Alley. I can take you there once you're all fixed up, if you'd like. I'm sure the goblins would like to meet you. The Potters are one of the oldest families in England, so you're bound to have an account already set up."

Again, more questions came to mind, but Harry decided to accept Bill's offer. Bill said he would return the next day unless Jonas said otherwise. Jonas agreed to the plan, saying that Harry was healing remarkably well and should be fine for a short trip, provided that he was present as additional supervision. With that, Bill Weasley left the room, leaving Harry with more thoughts in his head than he believed he'd ever have time to sort through.

Jonas looked at the young boy and was glad to see him relax after spending some time free from his muggle relatives. Which brought Jonas back to where he had left off with his questioning. It was time to get some answers from the boy, though he was reluctant to bring up the scars, both physical and emotional that he was sure Harry carried. Too many calming draughts in one day was generally a bad idea, but he prepared another just in case.

Two hours later, Jonas himself was in need of the potion. It had been tough getting Harry to talk about his home life and the abuse that had come with it for as long as he could remember. The crisscrossed scars on his back told of numerous whippings with belts and canes. The fractures on his ribs, arms, and legs told of his uncle's fury and cousin's willingness to follow in his footsteps. The brand across Harry's chest was the last thing he asked about, and the memory of how it came to be caused bile to rise in the healer's throat.

 _"What's your name, boy?!" Vernon roared at the small shape in front of him._

 _"Harry Potter," the huddled figure replied. "They called me Harry Potter at school today."_

 _"You're nothing but a Freak! You hear me? Your name is Freak, and I won't have you thinking otherwise under my roof!" Vernon threw his fist into the boy's stomach, lifting him with the force behind the blow as he was thrown back against the brick fireplace. Dursley's face twisted into a horrible smirk as he looked at the poker leaning against the grate. He left the room, leaving Harry crumpled on the floor, holding the back of his head so that he wouldn't get blood on the carpet. Petunia hated when he got blood on the carpet._

 _The largest Dursley returned a minute later with a blowtorch in hand. Grabbing the poker, he gave the boy a sharp jab before lighting the torch. Iron glowed red as it was heated by the fire. Slowly, ever so slowly, the large man lowered the metal to the boy's chest, one large hand covered his victim's mouth and metal met skin with a hiss. The boy was unconscious by the third letter as "_ FREAK _" was eventually burned into his flesh._

 _Petunia arrived later and got the full story from her husband. Leaving the boy in the cupboard where he had been left, she picked up the telephone to tell the school that Harry Potter would be absent for the next few days, as he was feeling anxious in the new environment. The boy would live. He always did._


	4. Goblins and Greed

**Disclaimer:** I guess I neglected to mention that I'm not secretly JK Rowling, and therefore don't own Harry Potter. The fact that you didn't pay any money to read this should also establish my lack of monetary gain from this story. If I could claim the franchise, I'd make the whole series into an awful amalgamation of apathy and angst. Also, I'd probably be inclusive _in_ the story, rather than claiming to be after the fact. Looking at you, Joanne.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Goblins and Greed**

Harry woke up and jumped out of bed, already bouncing with excitement for the day's outing. It was going to be his first time in the wizarding world, excluding St. Mungo's Hospital, and he was full of energy from getting multiple nights of peaceful sleep, something almost entirely unheard of during his stay with the Dursleys. He felt stronger and healthier than ever. He was sure he had grown at least three inches and his ribs were no longer easily visible under his skin. Harry wasn't sure how magical healing worked, but he certainly like the results. His scars were all still visible, but he could probably find a way to hide those too.

Jonas and Bill came in and laughed at the sight of Harry happily moving around on his own, free for the first time. Jonas had told Bill about Harry's home life, with the boys permission. Needless to say, Bill had been horrified. His youngest brother Ron was the same age as harry and the thought of anyone taking out such hate on him made Bill's blood boil.

"Hey Bill, do you think the goblins will let me bring Balthasar or will I have to leave him here for the day?"

Bill allowed his smile to widen at the boy's eagerness. "I think they'll allow it. You and Balthasar share something called a familial bond. That sometimes happens between magical people and their pets, and it will allow Balthasar to slowly gain new skills and a small amount of magic. The fact that you can speak to him only makes the bond stronger." At that, Harry's face lit up in a full smile and he leaned over to the bed to have Balthasar take his usual place on his arm. Balthasar would have to remain hidden in the presence of wizards and witches, but it was better than abandoning him. Neither one wished to be separated from the other for long stretches of time.

Bill and Jonas led the way out of the room and through the rest of St. Mungo's. They stopped in front of a large fireplace where several others were forming a line. As each person approached the fire, they grabbed a handful of powder from a bowl and threw it into the flames. The flames turned green and the person stepped into the fire, speaking the name of their destination as they disappeared. Harry thought it was the coolest way to travel, and it seemed pretty easy. When it was their turn to go, Harry watched Jonas take the floo before following his example. Stepping into fire went against his better judgement, but Harry shouted "Diagon Alley" and was twisted away at once. He stumbled out of a different fireplace and crashed into Jonas, who was there to catch him, as promised. He laughed as Harry rose unsteadily to his feet. "Floo travel takes a while to get used to," Bill said as he joined them. Jonas laughed again, thinking back to his own first try and Harry smiled at his own expense. Floo travel was still awesome, even if it did make him want to puke.

The three of them had arrived in an old inn called The Leaky Cauldron. Harry's first thought was that Aunt Petunia would have hated it. It was dirty and dark and smelled like the locker rooms at Harry's old school. Wizards and witches went about their business, completely ignoring the newcomers. Harry had taken extra care to hide his scar, since Bill and Jonas agreed that it was better to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

Most of the people seemed to be heading out of the building through a back door, and Jonas led the group to follow them. The door led to an alley with a dead end and some old crates stacked against one of the side walls. "Is this Diagon Alley?" Harry asked incredulously. Bill shook his head and smirked as he raised a stick like Jonas had used in the hospital. He tapped five bricks in a pattern and stepped back as the wall shifted into an archway. "This," Bill said with his usual flare, "is Diagon Alley."

Harry blinked like an owl as he looked from side to side, shocked into silence by the wonders of the view laid out before him. Shops of the strangest kind lined both sides, from cauldron sales to owl emporiums and some sort of sports shop called Quality Quidditch Supplies. Dominating the alley was a massive marble building at the far end. Massive bronze doors gleamed in the early morning sunlight, making the whole alley seem brighter as they approached. Carved into the façade of the building was the name "Gringotts," complete in gold lettering. The bank was to be the first stop of the day, with a chance to explore the alley later.

Bill took the lead now, as he was the most familiar with Gringotts and its workings. The group passed through the bronze doors and came to a second set, this time silver. Two figures quite a bit short than Harry stood on either side of the gate. If their size was somewhat unimposing, the wicked gleam of their battle axes most certainly wasn't. Before the armored guards opened these doors for them, Harry read the words engraved upon them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So, if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"You'd have to be mad to try and rob it," Bill said when he saw Harry finish reading. "We've got the best security in the world, and everyone knows it." The goblin guards dipped their heads in silent agreement as they allowed the group entry.

Inside, more goblins hurried about the hall, each carrying gold, or jewels, or some very important documents. There was not a single goblin who seemed relaxed, save the teller behind a copper counter. It was this goblin whom Bill approached, with Harry and Jonas following in his wake. "Mr. Potter is here to be introduced."

The goblin finished reading the document in front of him before he looked up with a wicked grin that revealed two rows of razor sharp teeth. Harry just barely stopped himself from shouting and managed to keep it to a short gasp. Unfortunately for him, the slight sound drew the goblin's attention and Harry met the steel grey eyes of the goblin. The teller appraised him and then turned his attention back to Bill. He reached for a small bell which he rang once. Immediately another goblin approached the counter and was tasked with escorting them. This goblin introduced himself as Griphook.

Griphook led them to a side corridor and into a waiting room with several chairs and a small table. "Account Manager Riptooth will be with you momentarily. He is responsible for the Potter accounts." Both Harry and Bill took a chair, with Harry noticeably seated at the very edge, as if poised to flee at the slightest provocation. When a new goblin announced that Account Manager Riptooth was available, Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. everything about these goblins put him on edge. He let Jonas and Bill lead the way into the ornate office belonging to Riptooth.

A heavyset goblin sat across from them with a secretary closely behind him, carrying a massive leather-bound tome. The smaller goblin placed the book on the desk and scurried out of the way as quickly as his little legs could carry him. Riptooth sat down with a grin, revealing to Harry several rows of teeth that he really didn't want to imagine ripping into anything.

The goblin cleared his throat imperiously. "There is no account listed under the name Harry Potter." To say that Jonas and Bill were surprised would be an understatement. Bill managed to school his features much more quickly than his healer companion, having grown used to the ways of the goblins. Thinking he understood the problem, and knowing that the account manager would hardly be likely to bring it up himself, Bill leaned forward to ask "Perhaps one for Hadrian James Potter, then?"

Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised. "Hadrian?" he asked. "Is that my name? And James must be my middle name! Aunt Petunia said I didn't have a middle name!" He was standing up now, hands shaking nervously as waves of emotion rolled through him. He hadn't known his name was Harry until he was five, and now he was being told that wasn't even the truth of it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately tensed at the touch. Looking to see Jonas next to him with a vial in his hand caused Harry (or was it Hadrian now) to pause and take a deep breath. He accepted the calming draught from the healer and gulped it down. The goblin looked unimpressed with his outburst, and once again Harry felt shame for his behavior. He sat down and lowered his head meekly as Balthasar squeezed his arm soothingly.

The goblin continued, "Hadrian is the heir to the Potter vault, but he cannot be granted access, according to the law preventing those without magic, namely squibs, from inheriting." He paused and a look familiar to those who knew goblins or the Dursleys was etched into his features. It was fierce, calculating greed. Harry shuddered as his gaze met the goblin's stare.

"However, I have reason to believe that Mr. Potter here is no squib at all. He was brought into Gringotts by his mother shortly after he was born, and our records at the time indicate that he was fully magical. One does not simply lose magic like that. Squibs are born, not made. Records kept by Gringotts are never wrong, and therefore I can only conclude that Mr. Potter has had his magic bound. Given his lack of magical signature, I would say it has been bound quite tightly indeed." The silence following this announcement told Harry quite plainly that it was bad. Very bad.

"Is that something you can fix, Healer Prim?" It was Harry who asked the question, though he had only meant for the healer to hear it. The mood in the room was dulled as they waited for the answer.

Jonas shook his head slowly, hating that he had to give the poor boy the bad news. "No, Harry. I'm afraid I can't. Magical bindings are highly illegal and have thankfully been quite rare since Medieval times. I wouldn't know how to negate it. Few wizards would, and I daresay those are the same ones doing it in the first place."

Harry tried to take it in stride. He had known he was a squib, but to hear that someone had essentially stolen his magic was another thing entirely. His anger grew as he realized that the magical world would probably turn him away if he couldn't be a hero anymore. The question came before he could catch himself. "Can I still stay?" he pleaded. Terror at the thought of returning to the Dursleys shone in his eyes, and only the lingering effects of the recent calming draught kept him from panicking.

He looked first to Healer Prim, then at Bill Weasley. It was the latter who answered. "I would guess you could, and that would probably be especially true for you in this case. Any family would love to take you in, given your fame, but squibs are seen as failures by many of the more traditional families. Your choices would likely be made for you as long as you stayed in the magical world, since you don't have the same legal rights as witches and wizards."

Harry thought that sort of life sounded a lot like the one he hoped to leave behind, only here he would be recognized by everyone. _Some hero I'd be then,_ he mused. At least the beatings would stop, but that was really the least anyone could do.

Seeing doubt growing on both men's faces forced Harry to look away… straight into the eyes of Riptooth. The gaze of greed was gone, only to be replaced by something far stranger. Something that seemed to paralyze Harry where he stood as he watched emotions flash across the eyes on the goblin's inscrutable face. Pity, thoughtfulness, and most importantly, hope. Just a glimmer of hope, but it was enough for Harry to latch onto. He met the look steadily, silently continuing his plea.

The goblin nodded to himself for a moment before writing a note and sending it off with a growling sound. He looked at the three people in front of him, focusing first on the healer who may yet become the lynchpin in his plan before letting his gaze fall on Gringotts youngest recruit.

"Curse-breaker Weasley!"

"Yes, Master Riptooth?" the redhead replied firmly.

"Please escort Mr. Potter outside. I have something urgent to discuss with Healer Prim. I need not remind you that what we have discussed will have major consequences for Gringotts if it is spread beyond these walls, so it would be wise to exercise discretion."

It was the truth, though Bill knew enough to suspect it was not the full truth. Regardless, he knew an order when he heard one, and did as he was told. He said a quick goodbye to a decidedly nervous Jonas as he and Harry moved to leave the bank.

Bill looked down at Harry as they passed the double doors and returned to the alley. Most magical children would probably be showing signs of accidental magic after hearing such news, but of course Harry could do no such thing. Bill's brow furrowed as he observed the boy. He hadn't noticed before, but right now he could almost sense the magic he knew must be churning beneath their bindings. It showed in his eyes, eyes so intense that they had been the first thing he noticed, before even Harry's famous scar.

"Harry," he said, drawing his companions attention. "Are you feeling alright?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I'll be okay. I just need a minute, I guess." He trailed off as he collected his thoughts. "I should have been expecting bad news... Things were going right for too long."

Given what he knew about Harry's luck, or rather his lack of it, Bill couldn't really challenge that. He reached out slowly to lay his hand on Harry's shoulder. The moment of tension came anyway, but Harry seemed to appreciate the gesture of support. It was a start.

Bill gestured broadly to the shops around them, a bit of his dramatic flare returning as he asked "Well, I see about two dozen ways to keep things going right for a bit longer. Shall we?"

Harry's seriousness fell away as he grinned in response. He'd been looking forward to this, and he wasn't going to let his troubles get him down. He grabbed Bill's hand and began dragging him towards the shops. This was still a world of magic, and it was still the world where he belonged.

* * *

{AN: Next chapter will take Harry through Diagon Alley and should hint at why I chose to include the eldest Weasley child so soon. My original reasoning was that he grew up in the magical world, and he also has several siblings, which likely gives him ample experience with making children feel safe. He will continue in his supporting role throughout the fic unless my muse wanders significantly, so stay tuned for more William Weasley, Curse-breaker extraordinaire.

My pairings are pretty much decided, but my characters may develop in unexpected ways, so I suppose nothing is set in stone.

Cheers,

Damwaters}


	5. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer:** I am still too poor and full of testosterone to be JK Rowling. As such this story is written for fun and not money. The writing would be better if the opposite were true.

 **AN:** _This update is a day late because of reasons, but technically I promised weekly updates, and it is not yet next week. It is also the longest chapter to date (if you separate the prologue from chapter 1) so..._

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Diagon Alley**

Harry Potter had never been shopping. The closest thing he could compare it to was borrowing books from a library, so he was rather shocked by the sheer number of things for sale. Since the bookstore was the most familiar setting for Harry, he dragged Bill there first. "Flourish and Blotts," the sign read. Inside, books were arranged in piles reaching the ceiling. Many of the stacks looked as though they might fall on the customers below at the slightest provocation. Harry wasn't sure that it was necessary, but he supposed magic let people get away with unreasonableness.

"you have a sssnake on your arm as your only friend. Sssome booksss are more normal than that no matter how you look at it," Balthasar's muffled hiss came from his sleeve. Harry shook his head at his own messed up sense of normal.

Since he was still unaccustomed to being surrounded by people, Harry stuck close to Bill's side as he wandered the aisles. Naturally, he had no idea what to look for, but some titles seemed to grab his attention, like a massive tome called _Magic of the Gods,_ which featured a moving image of Zeus throwing bolts of lighting. Along the back wall was a section dedicated to famous witches and wizards, and Harry recognized many of the names from his ancient history books. _I guess I have more in common with these heroes than I thought,_ Harry reflected.

Harry quickly realized that he could easily lose track of time in here, and he really wanted to see more of the alley today. Bill saw Harry frowning at the idea of leaving and decided to make a quick purchase of _Hogwarts, A History_ as a gift. It was a popular book for those new to the wizarding world, and he figured an avid reader like Harry would appreciate it. The ten sickles he paid was well worth it when he saw the look of awe on Harrys face as he held his new book gingerly in front of him, looking for all the world as though he might forget to breathe.

"This is mine?," Harry whispered reverently.

"It is now. I hope you like it. I figured that since Hogwarts was the first thing we spoke about, you'd like to learn a bit more before you get... well" he ran his hand through his hair, "before someone else tells you about it," he finished awkwardly.

Harry knew he had stopped himself from saying "before you get there," but he chose to overlook that in favour of his appreciation for the gift. It was the first thing he'd ever been given, and the first book he could truly call his own. That in itself was enough to dispel the tension that had settled in the conversation.

"We should stop by Madam Malkin's next," Bill said, pointing across the alley where a window display was filled with manakins in robes of varying styles.

Harry looked down at his own wardrobe. It was the same clothes he had been wearing when he arrived in the hospital three days ago. The stains had been removed and the tears mended, but resizing the shirt and pants had proven difficult, since the charms required weren't widely known. After all, shops like Madam Malkin's wouldn't exist if there was no need for them. He was practically dragging his trousers behind him and his shirt was nearly down to his knees. He hadn't noticed before, but he was getting some strange looks from the other people in the alley, and once again he felt the desire to hide himself away. He nodded at Bill and let him lead the way.

The store appeared to be empty as Harry followed Bill inside, a bell above the door announcing their arrival. The sound of voices coming from the back of the store alerted them that they weren't actually alone as they proceeded deeper into the shop. Bill paused and tilted his head curiously as the voices became clearer.

"Really, Minerva, I'm not sure I can help you as much as you believe I can. Charming the skirts to resist shortening will interfere with the self-sizing charm already in place. Surely a bit of skin wont distract your male students. I'm told the muggleborns are especially used to less conservative fashion."

"A bit of skin? Honestly, Ida, the problem gets worse every year. I can't be forced to fill my detentions with such lunacy as a hormonally driven fashion crisis!" She seemed to gather herself for a moment before continuing in a much more pleasent tone, "Thank you for hearing me out, Ida. I apologize for putting this on you. I suspect it may be time to amend the dress code slightly. No less than two inches below the knee however. Hogwarts is a school, not a brothel."

Bill had been chuckling quietly as he listened in, but at the sound of footsteps approaching, he hurriedly jumped back and schooled his features. Minerva came to a stop when she saw them and nodded politely to Bill by way of greeting. Her eyes went wide when she turned and met Harry's gaze. She recognized those eyes. She searched the boys face and found the scar, hidden beneath his unruly black hair, just to assure herself she wasn't' mistaking the person in front of her.

"Harry?," she asked, "Is that you?"

Harry panicked briefly before he turned and received a reassuring nod from Bill. That was probably a sign that this woman could be trusted, at least in Bill's opinion. Much as Harry wanted to avoid his secret getting out, he knew Bill wouldn't put him in danger by casting him in the public eye. Harry turned back to Minerva and nodded in confirmation.

"Pleased to meet you Harry. I would have Mr. Weasley introduce us, but it would seem he's lost his manners at the sight of his favorite professor in public." Her voice was stern, but the amusement in her eyes took the sting out of the jab. Bill, for his part, seemed to remember his duties as Harry's unofficial guide to the wizarding world at that moment, and cleared his throat.

"Harry, this is Professor McGonagall. She teaches Transfiguration at Hogwarts, where she also serves as Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House." He laid a hand gently on Harry's shoulder, noting the ever-present moment of tension, and continued, "Professor, as you've guessed this is Harry Potter. I've been showing him around the alley with Jonas Prim. I'm sure you remember him. Jonas was the first person to meet Harry here. He'll be joining us again after he finishes some business at Gringotts."

McGonagall had raised her eyebrow at the mention of Jonas' involvement, but when Bill didn't elaborate, she didn't press for details. It was, after all, entirely possible for Harry to have met him outside of his official capacity at St. Mungo's. A niggling doubt in the back of her mind bothered her, but she couldn't discern the reason.

"It seems that you are in good hands then, Mr. Potter. A better pair of young men you are unlikely to find. I'd be happy to take tea with the three of you at some point before summer's end. I have to hear just how you managed to find your way here all the way from Surrey." She missed the flash of confusion and anger on Harry's face. "In the meantime I have some other business to attend to." She turned back to Bill. "I'll expect your owl. Good day Mr. Weasley, Mr Potter."

Harry watched her leave. "She seems... nice," He bargained.

Bill laughed, glad to see Harry was handling another introduction well. He hadn't missed the look a moment ago, but by now he knew better than to mention anything about Harry's old life. There was a moment of comfortable silence before the second woman appeared, rolls of material tucked under her arms as she went.

"Another for Hogwarts, dear?" She didn't wait for a response and called over her shoulder "my, but you look so young" as she made her way toward the front of the shop. Harry and Bill followed at a more sedate pace.

"Bill? How am I meant to buy my robes? I didn't get to take any money earlier. I know the book was a gift, but I really should be getting my own clothes."

"Don't worry about that, Harry. St. Mungo's will reimburse us for what we get here. They usually provide a fresh set of clothes to anyone whose injuries ruin their own, but they didn't have anything in your size, since they mainly treat adults. I asked if they'd cover the cost, since I'd be taking you to the alley today anyway."

Harry thanked him. He had noticed that Bill's robes were a bit rough around the edges with a few patches, whereas Jonas' robes were newer. He guessed that Bill's financial situation was a little more difficult, given his six siblings, and he didn't want to be a burden.

Madam Malkin was waiting for them with a selection of plain black robes and a few simple outfits for casual wear. Harry's favorite color was green, probably because it was his relatives' least favorite color for anything except the grass. He took the offered garments from Madam Malkin and made his way to a dressing room, relieved that she didn't try to take measurements. That would have been an unmitigated disaster with scars and a snake wrapped around his torso. No chance of _that_ staying secret for long.

In the end, Harry left with a new green shirt, a pair of jeans (thank goodness wizards acknowledged the wonders of denim), and a black robe to top it all off. Madam Malkin had asked Harry if he'd like to wear it out of the store, and he happily agreed, leaving the last remnants of his old life to be vanished by a lazy swish of Madam Malkin's wand. On his arm, Balthasar waxed poetic about the comfort of Harry's new shirt. Harry couldnt help but laugh at the idea of a snake with clothing preferences.

Harry stepped into the alley feeling lighter than ever before. This was even better than getting a book. He wasn't sure how things were going to work out, and he knew eventually his living situation would have to be addressed, but for now he was completely shot of the Dursleys, and that was something he had wanted for as long as he could remember. Harry was just deciding where he'd like to go next when he caught sight of Jonas making his way out of the bank. He looked ill, and Harry thought he saw him bump into someone else without even seeming to notice. _That doesn't look like good news,_ Harry thought. The lightness he had been feeling moments before crashed all around him as he watched Jonas stumble towards them.

When he reached them, the dazed healer came straight to the point. "You're a wizard Harry," he confirmed. We don't know why your magic was bound, or by whom it was, though Riptooth has a pretty convincing theory that You-Know-Who did it as a way to make your death more humiliating. What we do know is that, as a wizard, even one without a hint of a magical signature, you would be able to be chosen for a wand. Since it's widely accepted that anyone who can use a wand is a wizard, you'd be able to inherit immediately."

That was all good news so far, in Harry's opinion. Maybe not the bit about a humiliating death at the hands of a dark wizard, but he had survived that encounter anyway. He noticed, however, that Jonas was merely pausing before the bad news came. He gestured for him to get on with it. Really it wouldn't affect him much at this point. He was a pretty jaded nine year old, given the recent revelations.

"The catch is that you can't claim a wand until you're eleven. No exceptions."

Well, sure that was a touch disappointing, but in the grand scheme of things, Harry wouldn't really need a wand yet. He couldn't use it, in any case.

"There's more, Harry," Jonas continued, "and this is the most important bit the goblins are involved in. Riptooth believes that the goblins could break through the bindings on your magic, if you had a wand as a magical focus, and were taken to your family vault. Many pureblood families have vaults so old that over the centuries, the family's magic begins to seep into the room itself. The ambient magic would react to your presence, according to the goblins. Some sort of ritual using all of those factors would take place, and with any luck, you'd have your magic back on your birthday."

Living with the Dursleys provided Harry with the perfect reaction for Jonas' announcement.

"Well, fuck."

Bill snorted humorlessly behind him. Balthasar's hissing was a mix between concern for Harry's safety and amusement at his reaction.

"I think thats great news, Harry. You'll still have a couple months after the ritual to get used to having magic before school starts. If everything goes well, you'll be on the same level of most muggleborn students."

"But what am I going to do for two years until then? I can't just show up at the Dursleys'. It will take them all of a minute to get over their surprise before my uncle finishes what he started."

Bill traded a look with Jonas before he answered.

"My family would take you in, Harry, if that's what you want. We don't have much, as far as wealth or standing go, but we get by. I've only known you for a couple days, of course, but I think you could be happy there. My brother Ron would love to have you around, and I'm sure the others would too. It's just that..." He looked like whatever he was aboit to say pained him. "Well frankly, Harry, as much as we'd love to have you, I'm not sure we're the best fit. I love my family dearly, but I know we aren't without flaws. It's hectic at home, always, and there's a chance you'd have a hard time adjusting to so many people so soon. And I'm not sure we'd be able to afford another member of the family, though my parents would never mention it."

At that, Harry nodded. He appreciated the tentative offer, but Bill had just confirmed his suspicions about his situation, and Harry absolutely wanted to avoid putting a strain on anyone, especially since Bill had treated him so well and clearly felt guilty for his recommendation against his own family.

Jonas spoke up next, not wanting Harry to think him uninterested in his future. "I'd offer the same, Harry. I care for you more than I would a typical patient. It's hard not to get along with someone like you. My own reservations are about how much of a family I could actually be." He ran his hand through his hair, a habit he shared with Bill in tense situations. "My job takes up most of my time and you'd be left to your own devices most days. Living with either myself or the Weasleys would be opposite ends of a spectrum, and I think you would be happier somewhere in the middle. Somewhere that you won't be overlooked, but also won't be smothered. I just don't think we can provide that, much as we'd like to. If you think otherwise, you know best, after all. I'd be happy to have you around."

Harry was actually surprised by Jonas' offer. Not because he was any less friendly than Bill, but because Harry had underestimated how much both men seemed to care for him. It made him smile shyly, knowing that he finally had true friends. A family, really, even if it wouldn't be official.

Harry knew he couldn't accept either offer, but he still offered sincere "thank you's" to both men when he told them as much. The three of them got lunch and ice cream to lighten the mood before Bill looked up sharply, looking like he was deep in thought.

"I think I may have a solution," he said when he noticed both Harry and Jonas were looking at him curiously.

"Professor McGonagall. She knew your parents well, Harry. More to the point, she knew their closest friends. It's pretty likely that she could get in touch with someone who would be willing to take you in, without reservation. Next to Dumbledore, she's probably the most influential person at Hogwarts. We would have to swear her to secrecy so that she could know more about _why_ exactly you are no longer living with your relatives, but I'm sure she would agree." He looked rather pleased with himself for working all of that out.

"She also mentioned having tea with the three of us sometime soon, which would be a perfect opportunity to discuss this with her in person. What do you think, Harry? Are you okay with having another person know everything?"

In all honesty, Harry's first interaction with Professor McGonagall hadn't been long enough to pass judgement, but her mention of his life with the Dursleys, if indirect, was not a point in her favor. However, Bill's tone of voice spoke volumes for his respect of the witch in question, so he decided to have a little faith. He had yet to suggest anything that might put Harry in a negative situation.

"That sounds great, Bill, thanks. Even if your idea doesn't work out, it will be nice to talk to someone who knew my parents."

With plans in motion to meet McGonagall made, the three left the ice cream parlour. By some unspoken agreement, they all headed toward the Leaky Cauldron. It had been a long day for all of them, and it was time to go. Harry would be staying at St. Mungo's for another week for observation and treatment, so there was no urgency. Harry's choice could wait a while longer, and in the meantime he was the happiest he could ever remember feeling. He wanted a real family, certainly, but he counted himself lucky to have Bill and Jonas for friends.

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 **AN:** _Some of y'all have noticed that I occasionally switch between the American and UK English. It isn't me trying to be cool, I just read so much of both that my brain selects between them at random. Since I don't have a beta-reader, I usually let it slide in my editing process. If it bothers people, I'll try to be more careful._

 _Content-wise, it is probably clear now that I'm not going to ship Harry off to the Dursleys again. Bill and Jonas have effectively eliminated themselves from the running, so who do you think will fill the role of Harry's guardian? I've already decided, but I revel in your attention so feel free to guess. Reviews are always appreciated too._

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


	6. An Old Friend

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling is a British woman. I am neither British nor a woman, ergo I cannot be JK Rowling. JK Rowling has the rights to the Harry Potter franchise and the ability to make money off of it. I am not JK Rowling, therefore I don't have either.

 **AN:** _It warms my heart to have gotten such positive feedback on my first fanfiction story. Now with over 100 followers, this story has already exceeded my expectations, and I owe it all to my dear readers. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!_

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 **Chapter 6: An Old Friend**

Harry's last day at St. Mungo's was an eventful one, to say the least. The house-elf who had brought him from the Dursley's, Minnie, had grown fond of him, and had been a boon during his time spent healing from the horrors she had saved him from. Oddly enough, she had also grown quite close to Balthasar, who had asked Harry to convey his appreciation for helping in ways he could not. It was a strange but happy friendship forged by their mutual affection for Harry, and Harry himself was pleased to have grown closer to the excitable little elf. He would certainly miss her, wherever he ended up after today.

Healer Prim was giving Harry his final checkup, noting the remarkable difference that had been made in just over a week of care. He chalked that up to Harry's own hardiness, which had been explained to him as possibly the only magical power he seemed to exert. The scars, especially the larger and older ones, remained. Jonas had done his best to treat him, and had even called in a specialist, but due to the severity and passage of time, little could be done without extensive regrowth of the surrounding tissue, a risky procedure that he had cautioned against.

Harry accepted the decision with grace, appreciative of what had been done for him already. His malnourishment had been treated, his many internal injuries healed, and he felt strong and more confident as a result. He was able to tolerate physical contact from Bill and Jonas after seeing a mind-healer for several long sessions. It was another step forward that everyone celebrated privately.

The meeting with Professor McGonagall was scheduled for two o'clock. When the time came to leave, Harry said his goodbyes to a tearful Minnie, and expressed his gratitude to the healers who had cared for him. Bill's letter to the professor had been intentionally vague, only mentioning that Harry had suffered injuries that required magical healing, and that he would prefer to stay in the wizarding world in order to be closer to people who understood him. As they had discussed earlier, Professor McGonagall would receive full disclosure after they were sure she would tell no one else what she learned.

* * *

At ten minutes before the hour, Harry, Jonas, and Bill stepped out of the floo into the Leaky Cauldron, where they had rented a private room. Professor McGonagall arrived at exactly two o'clock, and Harry wondered if she had waited outside in order to make her entrance as punctual as possible. Given what he had been told about the stern woman, he thought it rather likely.

Stepping imperiously into the private room, Professor McGonagall greeted both Bill and Jonas fondly. They had been remarkably studious in their years at Hogwarts, and while Jonas had been sorted into Hufflepuff, she frequently engaged him in conversation about the application of transfiguration in the healing arts. Needless to say, she had been impressed by the both of them, and she was quite pleased to meet them now as equals.

It was Harry, however, who was her true focus. After all, though details had been scarce, she knew this social call would involve a bit of business as well. The need for secrecy had been stressed in the invitation, and she had avoided even a mention of this visit to her friends and colleagues. News of Harry's return to the wizarding world would be momentous indeed.

McGonagall greeted Harry warmly, even as she made a point to observe his reactions. He was timid, certainly, just as he had been in Madam Mallkin's. She had been expecting the sort of brashness which had characterized his father James as a child, but it was entirely absent from Harry's demeanor. She had known Harry as a baby, given her closeness to the Potters, and remembered him as a rambunctious sort, with a smile that could light up the room even in the darkest of times. Now she saw a serious young boy whose features were colder, more calculating, as if deciding whether she was a threat. The thought unnerved her, though her smile never faltered.

The full observation had lasted only a moment, and she stood straight once again, allowing the four to get on with the visit. Her suspicions rose and fell after a few moments, as always.

"Professor," Bill began after they had all taken a seat, "you know that I would never have requested an oath if I didn't believe it necessary, but in this case, it is, for Harry's comfort as well as ours. If you would?"

"Of course. I understand that any reason for Harry's unexpected return is cause for concern." With that, McGonagall raised her wand and swore to keep the identities of the present company secret, as well as any information she may learn in her time with them. Harry visibly relaxed when the oath was sealed with a flash of magic.

"Perhaps we should first address the dragon in the room?" McGonagall entreated.

This time, it was Bill who looked to Harry for permission. When it was given, he and Jonas took turns revealing the story of Harry's arrival, the greater consequences of their discoveries, and the details of the past two weeks. All was told freely, including the business with the goblins, thoroughly shocking the usually stoic witch. She never interrupted, though Harry could sense there were questions forming in her mind. Being the subject of the conversation, Harry had sat silently, only offering occasional nods of confirmation when McGonagall was unwilling to believe the words she was hearing.

Explanations given, Jonas concluded, "Our true purpose for seeking you out, Professor, is that we believe you may be able to help find Harry a new home. Anyone who we can trust to care for Harry without hesitation would be an option. Bill and I are willing to take him in for some time if necessary, but Harry needs a family of his own."

Minerva knew that she had voiced her own objections to Dumbledore's plan all those years ago, but yet until recently she had never given the situation a second thought. It was as if her arguments had been forgotten... _or removed._

The thought intruded like a runaway train and suddenly she felt very faint. Of course! She had been obliviated, and there was truly only one wizard who could have gotten away with such a thing. Albus Dumbledore. If she hadn't been sworn to secrecy already, she would have been out the door in a heartbeat. As it was, she could hardly go off with her wand half-drawn. She couldn't even accuse Dumbledore without betraying Harry's secret, and thereby losing her magic. It was an untenable situation, and McGonagall was unaccustomed to having the truth dropped on her in such a manner.

Reigning in her anger with some difficulty, she was able to explain her sudden change in expression. Bill and Jonas were obviously more aware of the severity of such use of memory charms, but even Harry knew that stealing someone's memories was a serious matter. There were things he would happily forget, but it was not a choice he would like to be made for him. Instantly he felt a sense of camaraderie with the professor. She had been taken advantage of and, regardless of Dumbledore's motives, it was still a devastating blow. He could relate to that. After all, his own relatives had taken advantage of him his whole life. Even so, he at least had the advantage of expecting every incident, whereas it would seem McGonagall had trusted Dumbledore implicitly.

The three others waited patiently for McGonagall to reassert herself. Vowing to get to the bottom of her recent discovery in private, she turned her attention to the request she had been tasked with.

The Head of Gryffindor House knew many families who would be _willing_ to take Harry in, even if he were without magic for the time being. Whether those same families _should_ be considered was another matter altogether. Her long tenure at Hogwarts had not been altogether without cases of abused students, but none of those had been quite so conspicuous as Harry Potter was bound to be. As it stood, she doubted any of the couples she had in mind would be able to see past the boy's fame and the myriad of opportunities it presented. _No,_ she decided. _He will go to someone who can see him as a child, not a celebrity_.

Though "maternal" was not an adjective readily applied to Minerva McGonagall, "protective" certainly was, and she would be damned if she let Harry's fate be put into the hands of anyone less than worthy of him. The remaining Marauders would have of course been the obvious choice, but, given that one was dead, another was in Azkaban, and the remaining member was a werewolf currently residing somewhere on the continent, such a solution seemed rather remote.

"I'm afraid no one comes to mind. The majority of willing candidates would have ulterior motives, as I'm sure you have deduced, and the rest are either unavailable or a poor match." It was with a heavy heart that Minerva admitted defeat. Lily and James had been her star pupils and friends, and now she felt as though she had let them down. Twice, if she counted leaving Harry with the Dursleys, which she did.

She briefly considered turning the matter over to the muggle authorities. Harry was, at least for now, able to live amongst muggles undetected. However, she was loath to place him in foster care, knowing that he would likely be faced with less than favourable living conditions. Having a non-magical family adopt him provided its own set of complications, namely in regard to the Statute of Secrecy.

It was Harry who responded. "That's alright, Professor. We knew it would be a long shot. Thank you for your help anyway." His tone was sincere, and Minerva wondered at the boy's lack of bitterness. She was not even the aggrieved party, yet her own sour mood was palatable.

"It is a shame, really. If you could inherit what is yours by right, you wouldn't be facing this at all. I've never cared for the Pureblood ideology myself, but I was allowed to distance myself from its effects. Now I see that I should have been more vocal in my displeasure. Perhaps I could have made a difference had I only tried." Self-loathing was generally something she had successfully avoided, but today Minerva had felt it quite sharply.

She continued with her train of thought, "Thanks to the purebloods pushing their agenda so strongly during the war, squibs have lost almost as many rights as... werewolves," she trailed off, determination settling in her features.

Jonas actually seemed concerned. McGonagall had handled the delicate situation well, but she was not a young witch, and her frequent mood swings were alarming to the healer. He was not entirely convinced that his former professor could handle the stress, regardless of her apparent tenacity.

"Professor," he started, "are you alright? You seem... out of sorts."

"I assure you I am quite well. Thank you, Jonas, I was merely organizing a few errant thoughts. I do believe I have come to a conclusion. The only suitable candidate for Harry's guardianship is Remus Lupin. He was an old friend of your father, Harry." She let her gaze soften as she looked at him. She drew confidence from the smile that appeared on Harry's face at the mention of his father, and a possible connection to him.

"The trouble is, I am not sure where Mr. Lupin is. He left for the continent some years ago, due to the fact that he himself is a werewolf, though most assuredly a responsible one and a true believer in the Light."

Bill's hand was raised, and Professor McGonagall actually cracked a smile at the sight of him returning to old habits. "Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

Bill dropped his hand, clearly embarrassed, but answered nevertheless. "In my field work as a curse-breaker, we sometimes have similar communication issues. An owl may take too long or be intercepted, and teams often have to contact the department head from great distances. We use patronus messengers, Professor. As long as this Lupin fellow is still in Europe, I'd be willing to bet he'd receive the patronus in a matter of minutes. Obviously letters are preferable for casual correspondence, but if you have the power and a close enough relationship to the target, this is your best bet."

Not for the first time, the only witch in the room was at a loss for words. How had no one else thought of that? Granted, the number of people who could cast a successful patronus charm were few, but it was still an ingenious way to handle urgent matters from a great distance. She wondered idly if William was actually allowed to give away trade secrets like that, but it wasn't as if she would be mentioning this conversation the next time she visited the bank.

Her ability was without question, so she stood and cast her patronus. A cat, naturally. She fueled the spell with her happiest memories of the Potters, as she felt compelled to do in this case. "Go to Remus Lupin. Tell him 'there is an urgent matter concerning the son of Prongs which requires your attention. Find me in the Leaky Cauldron. Ask Tom for the room number'."

The ethereal cat leaped away, through the walls of the inn and beyond. Rather than cross the channel to the continent, it took a turn toward muggle London, where it stopped in front of a haggard looking man perusing the classifieds column in a muggle paper. The man froze at the sight and his face turned ashen as he heard the message.

Exactly one minute and twenty-three seconds later, the door to the private room was swung open forcefully.

"Minerva! What is the meaning of this?! What happened to Harry?" Remus' voice was hoarse, and his eyes were wide with panic.

His nose twitched noticeably and for the first time he noticed the other occupants of the room.

Gazes of jade and emerald met. Searching. Emerald eyes lingered on the scars that covered the man's face, and the young boy smiled. Here was a man who could understand him. Here was a man whom he could understand.

Remus Lupin put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Bill and Jonas tensed... and Harry didn't.

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 **AN:** _Well there's another chapter done. This was a pleasure to write and I hope I was able to surprise at least a few of you with my choice for Harry's new guardian. Review and let me know what you think._

 _If you're interested, check out my newest story, **Beneath a Moonless Sky**_

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


	7. A Hero's Heritage

**AN:** _My thanks to those who've stuck with this story and to those whose reviews/messages push me to be a better writer. I hope the extra length of this update makes up for the delay._

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Remus John Lupin was not one to complain about the unfairness of the world. Few could have said he didn't deserve an occasional bout of bitterness, yet if he was bitter, it never showed. Lupin had left Magical Britain due to its increasingly hostile treatment of people such as himself. Werewolves, that is. Now he had returned out of both need and longing, searching for a job in the muggle world where he could better hide his condition. That search had been cut short by the message he received only a few minutes ago.

To say that Remus Lupin was surprised to see Harry would be akin to claiming that the dinosaurs had been surprised to see an asteroid hurtling toward the planet to wipe them out. Seeing Harry after all these years was not surprising. It was absolutely earth shattering.

It hardly occurred to Remus that Harry might not recognize him after all this time, which is why he now knelt with one hand resting on the lad's shoulder. The tension at that moment was palpable. To a werewolf, that was true in a literal sense. The reek of anxiety pouring off the two young men beside Harry nearly made Remus gag. It was only Harry's searching stare that kept him focused, and he was rewarded for his efforts by the soft smile that graced Harry's features.

Though Harry lacked the hightened senses of a wolf, he could still feel the anxious gazes of the three spectators boring into him. He knew there was no reason to worry. Remus Lupin was no stranger to him. In his eyes Harry had found a long forgotten memory. A memory from his life before the Dursleys.

"Moony!" Harry shouted happily as he threw his arms around the bemused newcomer. A few tears welled in Remus' eyes as he heard a name he hadn't in years. The tears didn't fall till he hugged the boy in return. It felt like coming home.

"Well," a voice interrupted after a moment, "if that's not a glowing recommendation in favor of your suitability, I don't know what is."

"Suitability for what, Professor?" Lupin may not have been a student for over a decade, but calling the regal witch by any other name would never come naturally to him.

Bill took a step forward and shook Lupin's hand. "The answer to _that_ is a very long story, Mr. Lupin. Why don't we sit down so we can give you the full of it."

And so once again the story was told, catching the lone wolf up to speed on just how Harry's life had led the five of them to this clandestine meeting in a sketchy tavern. It was with some dark amusement that Harry watched the proceedings this time, since at the first mention of the Dursleys, Lupin had neglected the seat he had only just taken. By the time Jonas took over and covered the details of Harry's stay at St. Mungo's, Lupin was pacing the room like a caged animal.

"Bloody hell," he finally growled.

"That about sums it up," Bill agreed.

Lupin looked remorsefully at Harry. "I'm so sorry, cub. I never would have left if I knew you had been sent to them, I swear it. Petunia has hated your mother from the day Lily arrived at Hogwarts. Hated anything to do with magic, really. I was never unlucky enough to meet her husband, but no good man would ever suffer such a thing." He turned on Minerva. "What in the name of Magic were you _thinking_?"

To her credit, McGonagall made no attempt to defend herself from his righteous anger. She stared back into his now darkening eyes, and saw her guilt reflected in his stare. It was hardly her fault that she had been tricked into leaving Harry, but she had accepted her role in the matter with dignity. She had allowed her blind faith to rule her that night, regardless of the outcome, and that made her responsible in part for every pain Harry suffered in the Dursleys care.

Lupin didn't wait for her response. There wouldn't be one coming.

"I'll do it. I'll need help, but I'll do it. For James and Lily... and for you, Harry. I hope I can make up for the years I've missed."

"I can be of some assistance here, Mr. Lupin," Jonas spoke up.

"I've got the muggle custody papers for Harry already. Wasn't sure if I'd be signing them myself. No worries, sir, this is all above board... mostly. The Dursleys were arrested after an anonymous tip sent the proper authorities to their home, specifically to a certain cupboard under the stairs."

"What?!"

Harry was reeling. He hadn't given much thought to what was going on back on Privet Drive, but having the Dursleys arrested had never occurred to him. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that either. Sure they probably _deserved_ it, but now people might find out _why_ it happened. Important people, like that Dumbledore man everyone seemed to think was able to get away with anything.

"Please, Harry, calm down. No one knows anything of this." Well at least she understood Harry's outburst. "I've been with Dumbledore all week at Hogwarts, and if he had heard what had happened, we'd know," McGonagall said soothingly. "He is still your magical guardian, as far as I'm aware, but legal guardianship is a separate matter. The fact that even Dumbledore has overlooked this practically assures us everyone else will."

Jonas took over again. "It seems likely that Dumbledore assumes you would be with your relatives till you receive your Hogwarts letter. If he discovers anything before then, we will let him make his own conclusions. Cases of child abuse are always classified. That's why I was able to move forward without your express permission. It would actually violate my healer's oath if I hadn't reported the incident. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Harry."

Harry could only nod mutely. The Dursleys were gone. The price of people finding out later seemed relatively fair given the circumstances. He was never going back. As much as he wanted to be angry with Jonas, he actually understood. A nine year old really couldn't be expected to make that sort of decision for himself, after all.

Grateful for Harry's unspoken forgiveness, the healer continued. "As of now, Harry is a ward of the state, and I was assured that a willing guardian familiar with Harry would be given preference. We had to fudge the hospital records a bit, but so long as you prove you're able to care for him, and he's willing to be cared for, it will work."

"I won't be able to rent property in Magical Britain anyway, so I suppose my flat in London will suffice."

"It should. You'll need to be making enough money as well, Remus." This came from McGonagall and it gave Lupin pause. He hadn't, after all, secured a job yet. He had enough saved from his work on the continent to scrape by for a month or two, but two years was an entirely different case. Few options for employment were available in the magical world for werewolves, so he had been looking for muggle jobs.

Healer Prim would have been a poor excuse for a healer if he hadn't recognized Lupin for what he was. Ironically, the very thing that ailed the man may be his saving grace just now.

"The hospital needs someone like you, actually. We're always having trouble finding help in the Bite Ward. It would only be part time, so you would still have plenty of time with Harry."

"The Bite Ward?" Harry asked. "What kind of bite is common enough to have a whole hospital wing dedicated to it?"

Lupin looked distinctly uncomfortable. His condition wasn't exactly a secret, but he knew it would change the dynamic he had briefly established with the boy he would, with any luck, soon be caring for as a son.

"It's for those infected with lycanthropy, Harry. Werewolf bites. That's why I could be of use there, because I am one." He waited for the typical response: horror mixed with disgust. It didn't come. In fact, Harry's only reaction was a raised eyebrow.

"Am I supposed to be... surprised?"

Lupin was caught completely off guard. Even his closest friends had shied away from him when they first found out."Well that's certainly what I expected... Why are you sitting there like you didn't just find out something completely life changing?"

"Well... your first name is the same as a Roman mythological figure raised by a wolf, your last name is literally Latin for 'like a wolf,' and I remember that your nickname is Moony. I thought it was kind of obvious."

Lupin looked at him with his mouth hanging open in shock. And then he started laughing. Not the kind of laugh that comes from the gut. This was the sort that came all the way from his toes and brought tears to his eyes as it burst forth. A true Marauders' laugh that shook the room and just kept coming.

Jonas had chuckled at Harry's blunt response, but now he joined Lupin's roaring amusement. Bill followed a moment later, his deeper voice booming behind the others. Harry's boyish giggles only made them laugh all the louder, and McGonagall's face split into a grin at the sight. She didn't laugh with them, but she nearly did, and that was almost as good.

When the moment finally passed, Remus was quick to accept the healer's offer. It was no guarantee, but it was a pretty good chance, and it would go a long way towards securing his future with Harry. He had a brief moment of gratitude towards the purebloods who ensured the monetary exchange rate was always in their favor. A job at St. Mungo's would be more than enough to support a modest lifestyle in mundane London. He knew Harry's wealth was currently unavailable, but teaching him the importance of money management early would be one benefit of the financial situation. A rich and impulsive man did not stay rich for long, after all.

It was at that moment that a flustered McGonagall realized that the kettle had gone cold, practically a capital offense. A quick flick of her wand was enough to bring it back to a boil, and the whistle was like a call to attention for the others in the room. They were, after all, British.

* * *

Harry may have recognized Remus for who (and what) he was, but there was still a lot to catch up on. an entire lifetime had passed in Harry's case, and he was endlessly eager to hear from an old family friend. Who better to answer all the questions he had about his parents than a man who had grown up with them and fought a war by their side?

"Mr. Lupin?" Harry's voice finally broke the pleasant quiet of tea drinking. He got the attention of the eldest male in the room.

"The Goblins said that my full name was Hadrian James Potter, so why does everyone know me as Harry?"

"Actually, I was there when your parents chose your name. Your mother's family was originally from Scotland, and she had the classic red hair to prove it too. Your father's family, on the other hand, was originally from Rome, and came from the continent during the Empire's expansion. Rome and Scotland met at Hadrian's Wall, so they named you Hadrian as a sort of compromise between their two heritages. Most people shortened Hadrian to Harry, and when the story of You-Know-Who's defeat broke, that's what they called you."

Harry knew that story! He'd read about it in his history books at school. Harry had had no idea about his ancestry, and up until now he didn't think it mattered, but Rome was... well, Rome. He loved that stuff. Of course, Scotland was almost equally interesting to him, now that he knew Hogwarts was hidden somewhere near the Isle of Skye. It was almost too much to take in. He had known after visiting Gringotts that his father's family had been quite powerful, but now he knew more, and knowing more brought him a little closer to the memory of his parents.

"Can you tell me more about them, please? My aunt never spoke about them, except to remind me that they were good-for-nothing freaks." The last word was spat like a most vile curse, and even Minerva flinched at its harshness, to say nothing of the reminder it served of Harry's more physical suffering at the muggles' hands.

Though Remus attempted a smile after the moment passed, it didn't reach his eyes. "I met your father our first year at Hogwarts. He and I were both in Gyrffindor, so we shared a dormitory. He and another boy had met on the Express, and within the first week the three of us were inseparable. I'd like to say I was the voice of reason among us, but Professor McGonagall here will no doubt agree with me when I say there was no reasoning with your father. He was a prankster at heart, and a natural leader. Eventually, we made friends with the last student in our shared dorm, a shy boy named Peter Pettigrew. The four of us felt invincible together, even when our masterful pranks fell short. We all became rather familiar with the inside of McGonagall and Dumbledore's offices in that first year, and our visits became if anything more frequent after that. Your father came up with a name for our group, and it stuck."

"The Marauders," McGonagall said with equal parts amusement and sadness. "Yes, I remember the first time I heard you all addressed as such. A fitting name for your renegade crew."

Bill chuckled fondly. "You lot sound like you were a merry band of mischief makers. I daresay my twin brothers will give you a run for your money, though. Fred and George start Hogwarts this year, and they've been pranking others their whole lives. Even their birth was something of a prank, since the healers told my mother she was only expecting one child. Bit of a nasty shock when she found out." His brothers' antics were well known around Ottery St. Catchpole, the village where the Weasleys lived. He could only imagine the trouble they'd get into at Hogwarts. Minerva's pursed lips told him she'd be watching the twins closely.

The idea of a new pranking power entering Hogwarts seemed to lift Lupin's mood drastically. He continued his trip down memory lane with mirth dancing in his eyes. "The Marauders certainly earned our notoriety, but we were very much like brothers in our own right. When the others found out about my condition, it took a bit of getting used to, and for a while they distanced themselves from me, and it was my greatest fear that they might cast me aside or tell others about my secret. Eventually though, they returned, and we grew even closer as a result. I can honestly say that full moons were much improved for me with their support." He seemed on the edge of revealing something, but held back. Harry noticed, having kept many secrets himself, but he didn't believe the others had.

"Lily was in our house and year as well, and from the moment James met her, he was completely smitten. She hardly looked in his direction until the beginning of our fifth year year, and that was only to reject him in no uncertain terms. I believe she called him an 'arrogant, bullying toerag.' The effect that had on James was definitely out of character. He withdrew from our group for several days, rarely even joining us for meals. James certainly had the means to avoid us if he wanted, and without our leader, our group nearly dissolved.

"When he finally came round, James was practically a new man. Sure, he still got into heaps of trouble with us, but there was a new maturity to him that we hadn't seen before. He grew up, and the Marauders did too. The somewhat arrogant boy was replaced by a much humbler young man, and he took Lily's words to heart. He didn't bother her again, only speaking to her when spoken to. Our entire fifth year passed in a similar fashion, until Lily had a falling out with one of her friends. That this friend was already James' bitter rival played no small part in his reaction in defending Lily. Still, James never tried to use the situation to his advantage, and focused even more on his academics. The result was your father receiving the second highest number of OWLs, being beaten only by your mother. That change in focus, if anything, seemed to impress young Lily."

Harry thought the man speaking seemed to grow younger as he continued speaking. Taut lines not belonging on a young man's face seemed to disappear, and only the wrinkles formed by years of laughter remained. That the laughter had been shared with those he now spoke of was one reason for the change. The obvious interest of Harry, who himself was the happy ending to the story, was another. Yet Remus was not quite finished.

"In our sixth year, Lily warmed up to the Marauders, as we were no longer as distracting a group. I was the one to gain her confidence first, given our similar personalities, and our connection allowed her to see the new side of James. He was still, of course, very much taken with her, and by the holidays it was clear those feelings were being returned. They became an official couple after the new year, and the rest is history. If you can know the truth in anything, Harry, know that your parents loved each other very much, and that they loved you even more." Tears tracked down Remus' scarred face as he finished his recollection. These were the friends he had lost, but now he had a chance to be there for their son, and he was determined to make the most of it.

* * *

While it would be untrue to say that Harry was as close to Remus as he was to Jonas and Bill, it would be true to say that after another hour of being regaled with stories of his parents and their days at Hogwarts, Harry was at least content with the sudden changes headed his way. That Remus was his first and only potential guardian would normally have him questioning the sanity of Professor McGonagall, but now it was quite obvious that she had made an excellent choice.

It was now nearing four o'clock, so Jonas asked Bill and McGonagall to watch after Harry in the alley while he and Remus took care of the legal paperwork for the guardianship and the necessary tasks for the potential job at the hospital. There was still a great deal of unexplored territory for Harry in Diagon Alley, as his last trip had been cut short, so he was happy with the arrangement. The group would be having dinner at the Leaky Cauldron before visiting Lupin's flat. As he hadn't been expecting visitors, or indeed another person living with him, Minerva offered to transfigure a bed for Harry that would last at least until a real one could be purchased. Being a master of the subject had its perks, and Lupin was only too happy to accept.

While Harry would have liked to spend more time at Flourish and Blotts, he decided that McGonagall's glances toward Quality Quidditch Supplies were worth an investigation. It also seemed that the shop had drawn the largest crowd, all staring at a display in the window.

"Whoa, Ced, ain't she a beauty?" A lanky boy who looked about two or three years older than Harry asked.

The boy with keen blue-grey eyes next to him nodded in agreement. "If I had one of these, I'd make seeker next year for sure," he replied almost reverently.

As Harry, Bill, and Minerva approached, a few of the older students greeted the professor. Most students were familiar with the witch's love for the sport, so weren't entirely surprised to see her admiring the new Nimbus model proudly featured in the window. Harry was disregarded as just another bystander, which was exactly how he wanted it to be. At least for now.

Harry still wasn't familiar with wizarding money, but since the broom display didn't include a price, he assumed that most of the spectators wouldn't be getting the "sleek ash wood handle with glazed maple twigs for improved acceleration and control." Still, given that Harry had imagined witches riding on much uglier brooms, he could still be impressed with what he saw. Remus had told Harry that his father played for Gryffindor's house team at Hogwarts, so he at least understood the basics of the game, and the appeal it had which rivaled football in the muggle world. Harry had always seen sports as just another way to get injured, but he figured he'd give quidditch a try, if he got the chance. At least flying would be fun.

McGonagall made her way into the shop to once again try her luck at obtaining discounted brooms for Hogwarts, so Harry waited patiently outside with Bill as her request was firmly denied. With a huff, McGonagall walked away from the crowd, both Harry and Bill following shortly behind.

Just as Harry was beginning to wonder if there was a destination in mind, McGonagall turned sharply into a dark bazaar which seemed to be the source of several disturbing sounds. Explanation was found as the "Magical Menagerie" notice became visible. Professor McGonagall appeared to be venting her frustrations to a group of cats that had gathered around her. That was... decidedly odd. Bill was clearly amused at the sight of the usually collected witch now petting the closest felines, but didn't appear to share Harry's outright surprise. _Magic users are weird,_ Harry reminded himself yet again.

It was then that Balthasar made himself known. Only Bill, who was already aware of the snake's existence, was looking at Harry at the moment, so that was alright. When Balthasar directed his friend and master toward the reptile room, however, Harry soon discovered the reason for his behavior. A large python was steadily creeping away from its now abandoned enclosure and was approaching a glass case full of smaller, less dangerous snakes. What would have passed as low hisses to others now screamed for help in Harry's ears. Hoping that Bill would either assist with magic or at least distract McGonagall and the shopkeeper, Harry approached the beast and spoke, the language of snakes now second nature to him.

"I command you to ssstop, great sssnake. It is beneath a predator of your ssskill to feed on your own kind."

"A Ssspeaker?" The python cocked its head and met Harry's gaze. "I am yoursss to command, Ssspeaker, but I am hungry, and these runtsss are easy prey."

"We can sssolve this for you, great one," Balthasar interceded. "The Ssspeaker will convince the fool who keepsss you hear that you mussst be fed. If not, we will release you from thisss place."

The python appeared to bow in acknowledgement before returning to its own habitat. Harry really had no choice but to follow through, so he called Bill over and explained the situation. With McGonagall still unaware of their discussion, it left the two of them to solve the problem, one that would have been much easier if Harry could just buy the snake himself. One snarky snake was good enough for him anyway.

Bill kindly informed the shopkeeper that the python looked in need of more regular feeding, and that its enclosure had been opened. By implying that he would have purchased a healthier specimen, Bill was able to persuade the man to do the right thing. All Harry could think as the situation resolved was " _I'm Harry Potter, and I ssspeak for the snakesss."_

Harry assumed that he would never have a normal shopping experience. Strangely enough, he preferred it that way. Even if he was only a hero to snakes at the moment, he felt a certain kinship with them, and it felt good to help. He could hardly bear the thought of another two years before he could use magic, but Bill had said no children were allowed to practice before school, and other people couldn't talk to snakes (although perhaps there was a cat language McGonagall seemed to know?), so it was reasonably fair in his opinion. At least he knew about magic now, and he didn't need a wand to learn anyway. With that in mind, he dragged Bill and a much calmer McGonagall out of the managerie and toward Flourish and Blotts. He had time to kill, and many magics to explore.

* * *

It was fortunate that Bill and Minerva seemed to share Harry's enthusiasm for learning, because he was currently sitting in the ancient magics section, whispering with the both of them about a book he had picked up. Bill, being a curse-breaker, actually had first hand experience with some of the subject matter and was happy to tell Harry all about it. Bill's brother Ron was far less studious than the older siblings, and Ginny was frankly too young to have much interest in anything academic, so Bill was beginning to see Harry as a younger version of himself, though matured by different circumstances. McGonagall gave her expert opinion on some of the properties of ancient spellwork, but Harry honestly preferred listening to Bill's tales of adventure. Working as a professional treasure hunter, which is what Bill essentially did, sounded like something Harry would like to do when he grew up. _So much for being a police officer,_ he thought, thinking back on his career choice at school.

Jonas and Remus arrived later than expected, but found the three others easily enough. Jonas knew Harry would be drawn back to the bookstore like a moth to a flame. It was simply the way he was. Harry returned the book to the shelf and the group made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner. It was mostly a quiet affair, but Remus shared the good news of his official employment, which the adults celebrated with a round of drinks. Harry was more than happy with his treacle tart which he was given instead.

He was less happy with the treacle tart when it came back up a few minutes later. Side-along apparition was about a hundred times worse than floo travel. Lupin apologized for the rough landing as he cleaned up the mess Harry made and waited for him to recover. When he did, Harry realized that he was now standing with the others in muggle London, looking up at a building that he could only assume was where Remus lived. his assumption proved correct as they were ushered inside and up several flights of stairs ("lift is out of order, sorry") to the werewolf's home.

The adults got to work making the space functional for two residents while Harry looked around. It was a small place, much smaller than the house at Privet Drive, but it was much more welcoming. It was clear that Remus had only just moved in, as there were several boxes lying about, but it seemed that putting out pictures had been a priority, and Harry saw several moving images of a group he assumed must be the Marauders. He found one taken at their graduation, and a young woman had joined the group. Harry couldn't take his eyes off of the two figures holding hands.

It was in front of the picture that the four adults found Harry still standing several minutes later.

"I've never seen them before."

Remus gently rested his hand on Harry's shoulder. "The moment I saw you, I thought you looked just like James... except."

"I have my mother's eyes."

* * *

 **AN:** _As you may have guessed, I'm very invested in keeping Balthasar's role in this story relevant. In canon, Harry's parsletongue talents are hardly ever used, and are all but forgotten after the Chamber until Harry's dream at the start of GoF. Then it becomes irrelevant until the final book. I'd like to say an awesome ability like that would be something my Harry, a boy keen on learning, would want to explore. By giving Speakers influence over serpents, it allows for further plot points while also showing Harry's capacity for empathy, even towards those under his control._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Writing McGonagall is always a treat, so I hope that was amusing. Next chapter will finally see Harry new life with Lupin, and I promise the wait for Hogwarts will move more quickly after that._

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


	8. The Greatest Gift

**AN:** _Enjoy the new chapter, and please review._

* * *

Remus had only been granted temporary guardianship of Harry, pending a formal interview with a social service official. As such, he was allowed to have Harry stay with him with the caveat that they were subject to unplanned visits from child protective services. As the next full moon was three weeks away, there was little chance of anything interfering with the arrangement. He had, of course, made plans for those days in advance, knowing that he could not be near Harry during his transformations. The hospital would be providing Wolfsbane potion for him as part of his benefits, and he would spend full moons with the patients under his purview. As it meant one night apart from Harry, the boy would stay in the London flat with Jonas or Bill, whoever was available.

Harry's first night had been a bit awkward for the new pair. Neither were certain what their relationship would be, and Remus certainly didn't want Harry to feel uncomfortable, so he had said goodnight and sent him off to bed before spending the next hour going over the interaction to figure out if he could do better. It was going to be a work in progress.

The next morning, Harry had approached and told him that the only way this would work was if they felt comfortable, and offered a compromise. Harry would refer to him as Moony, and at night they would read together before bed. Since Harry had gotten used to being tucked in by Minnie at the hospital, Moony would do that too. The second night went much better, as did the nights after that.

Bill, Jonas, and Minerva were frequent visitors, which Harry greatly appreciated. He had spent almost every waking moment with Jonas since his arrival, and he drew a sense of comfort from him that Moony was quickly working his way up to. Becoming more familiar with the transfiguration professor had been an odd experience for both Harry and Remus, something the witch herself seemed to sense. She would likely never be as carefree as the others, but gradually she became more relaxed and her company was as welcomed as the others'. It was a week into this new life that the three of them were taking tea, and McGonagall decided a change was in order.

"Harry, Remus, I think it's about time you got out of the habit of referring to me as 'Professor,' at least in private settings. Minerva will do just fine, thank you. When you become a student, Harry, I will expect a return to formality, but I would like it if you could see me as more of a friend than a future instructor."

"Okay, Minerva. Are you really named after the Roman goddess? She was all about wisdom, so its a good name for you, I think. That would make three of us with Roman names if you were. Remus, Hadrian, and Minerva."

Minerva flushed at the comparison to her namesake, and was amused by Harry's enthusiasm. She had noted his particular interest in ancient cultures back at Flourish and Blotts, and it was easy to see he had been studying them for some time. Though she desperately wanted Harry in her house, she recognized all the early signs of a typical Ravenclaw. Filius would likely be pleased with that decision, should it come to pass. _Now there's another Latin name._

"I do believe the influence of Roman culture is more apparent in Magical Britain then our muggle counterpart. Filius Flitwick is the Head of Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts, and other professors also have names derived from Latin. I'm sure there is a book somewhere that would offer an explanation, but my guess is that it has to do with the influx of Roman magicals, including your ancestors, who later made up a small but powerful percentage of the Ancient and Noble Houses. It is the same influence that explains why most spells have Latin incantations, in areas under Imperial rule especially, and later in British Colonies and Territories. From there the spread is a matter of universality and convenience."

Harry had been expecting a confirmation about Minerva's namesake, but it had somehow turned into a lesson in magical imperialism and the influence of language. Not that he minded, per se, but this was exactly why he found it difficult to separate Minerva his friend from Professor McGonagall the transfiguration master. Lecturing was her default method of interaction.

With four diversely specialized adults practically drowning him in magical knowledge, many children Harry's age would have been bored out of their minds. In his case, however, Harry absorbed everything like a sponge, and augmented his unofficial lessons with what he found in books. Bill's career made him particularly qualified to expand Harry's considerable knowledge, especially about the magic behind his favorite heroic tales.

* * *

With Remus' first paycheck came a chance to explore more of muggle London, and Harry jumped at the opportunity. He enjoyed Diagon Alley, but London was just so much bigger that he would never run out of things to do.

Moony's goal for the outing was to get some things for Harry's room, including a real bed. For a boy whose first mattress was the one he was assigned at St. Mungo's, there would be no expense spared on one he could call his own. Rather than any of the foam mattresses, however, Harry chose a cheap spring mattress that was firm and generally unyielding. Harry confessed that after years of sleeping on a thin blanket, he was still unused to soft beds, and they made him feel like he was falling. Mentally cursing the Dursleys for conditioning Harry for discomfort, Lupin relented, and the new mattress would be delivered some time the following day.

As far as personal affects, Harry had been given several photos from Lupin's collection, including the graduation picture showing his parents. Most magical children in Britain themed their bedrooms around their Hogwarts house or favorite professional Quidditch team. As Harry had neither, he had decided to go for a nature theme, including a large glass tank for Balthasar, for the rare occasion he wasn't with Harry. Usually he stayed behind when Harry was exploring London, as he didn't find the city appealing in the least. What few things Harry still wanted to decorate with would be purchased today. Making their house a home was important to both guardian and ward.

After a long day of exploring the city, the duo returned home to find a serious looking man in a suit waiting for them. It was fast approaching five o'clock and a suddenly anxious Remus was hoping that they had not kept the stranger waiting. He was almost certainly their "unexpected visitor" and the impressions made now would determine whether or not Lupin was deemed fit for permanent guardianship.

"Mr. Lupin, I presume?" he began pompously. "I am Elijah Goode, with the NSPCC. May I inquire your whereabouts this evening?"

"Yes sir. Harry and I were out shopping. We've taken it upon ourselves to redecorate the flat a bit. Harry also requested a new mattress, which will be arriving tomorrow."

"Very good. Shall we take this conversation inside?"

"Of course." Mentally, Remus kicked himself for not extending the invitation himself sooner. "Follow me, please."

The social worker and Harry followed dutifully behind Remus as he led them up to the flat. Once inside, Elijah, who Harry noticed had yet to speak to him, prowled through the living area, making notes as he went. Remus had dismissed Harry to go decorate his room with the new purchases, projecting an air of confidence that he didn't truly feel. He could only hope the decorations and the young boy would be here to stay.

With Harry now out of the way, the visitor rounded on Remus.

"The temporary placement order for Hadrian James Potter was approved in an expedited fashion, likely due to your personal attachment to the case and the recommendations we received in your name. Still, this interview will be kept on record, and I ask that you answer my questions honestly and in full detail. In the event that the placement order is revoked, Hadrian will be removed from your care and placed in a suitable foster home. Any questions, Mr. Lupin?"

When Remus answered in the negative, Goode began.

"It says here that you have only recently returned to England. Where were you before that, and for what reasons did you return?

"I left after the death of Harry's parents and another close friend, as I was assured that Harry would be raised by his next of kin. Their claim on the boy would be much stronger than mine, though I was unaware at the time of their... recently apparent shortcomings." He did his best to keep the anger out of his voice and failed to a certain degree. He could only hope it seemed justified. "I spent the interim years working in Germany, in the greater Berlin area. I was hired on as a financial consultant for an up-and-coming business, which paid well enough for me to save up for my eventual return to England. I came back primarily out of homesickness. I have no family left here, as they passed away before I left, but I have several old acquaintances in the area, which is how I came to know about Harry's situation. He is now my primary reason for staying."

Mr. Goode nodded mutely, scratching away at his clipboard. "Are you aware of your ward's financial background?"

"I am."

"Did it play any part in your decision to take him in?"

"It most certainly did not. I have already waived my right to a stipend set for the whomever takes up guardianship, as my income will be more than sufficient. The whole of his inheritance, monetary or otherwise, will be kept for Harry and him alone. His father knew of my distaste for handouts, and though James Potter was a dear friend and had access to the same wealth now being discussed, I have always made my own way in the world."

"Should your placement order stand, do you intend to seek an adoption?"

This was a more difficult question for Remus to answer. Naturally he _wanted_ to adopt Harry as a son, rather than simply serve as a guardian, but he hadn't discussed it with Harry himself, and though their relationship had been growing in the weeks since they had reunited, it was still in its early stages. He didn't know if adoption was the logical next step, or if Harry would feel uneasy with the idea. Elijah was still waiting on an answer, though Remus felt as though he didn't quite have one. He decided to speak his mind. "That decision may come after a time, but I don't believe it would be the right thing to do just yet. Harry and I have a relationship more like friends rather than a typical family, and though I hope to serve as a father figure in his life, making it official would be the wrong thing to do at this point. I may offer him the choice in the future, but not before we truly know each other. I don't want to seem as if I am trying to replace James, though Harry never had a chance to know him."

Elijah seemed to mellow as the interview continued, likely becoming convinced that Remus was not some old acquaintance come to steal the family fortune. They discussed Harry's schooling, medical care, and a host of other topics that would determine the wellbeing of the last Potter in his remaining formative years. Remus himself was able to relax as the interview settled into a more conversational meeting. His bravado from earlier had been replaced by true confidence, and he was almost certain Harry would be staying with him for the foreseeable future.

Harry had finished decorating his room in a matter of minutes, and spent some time listening in on the meeting. He wasn't skeptical of Moony's intentions, but he was curious about how his newest friend and mentor was handling their admittedly unique situation. More than anything, Harry was concerned that he might be seen as a burden for the man. The sincerity with which Remus spoke of his care for him convinced Harry that all was well, and he sneaked back to his room after some time to rest after the long day.

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been napping when he woke to the sound of his name being called from the living room, where Remus and Elijah were seated. As he entered, the jovial countenance on Moony's face sent Harry's mood soaring. Surely it was an indication that he would be staying here. His hopes were confirmed by Elijah as he turned to address him.

"Hello Hadrian. I apologize for the earlier formalities, but I needed a few suspicions cleared before speaking to you directly. It seems that I had nothing to fear in regards to Mr. Lupin's ability to care for you, but I would like to know how you are feeling about your new life with him. Would you mind joining us? Mr. Lupin was kind enough to prepare a supper for the three of us, and we can talk over the meal instead of having an official interview, if that suits you."

"I am pretty hungry, now that you mention it. We can eat and talk, but I don't know what you want to know, sir."

"Quite simply, lad, I'd like to know if you're happy."

"Oh definitely. Moony has been great. He takes me out every day to see new places, and he lets me keep my snake Balthasar in my room, and we have friends come over all the time so that it never feels lonely here. Sometimes it can be... overwhelming I think, but its a good kind. I'm happier than I've ever been, sir. Do I really get to stay?"

Despite first impressions, Elijah really was a good man, and cared a great deal about his job looking after vulnerable children. To hear the enthusiasm in Harry's voice was a far cry from the timid boy he expected to meet after reading the case file. Clearly the boy was either incredibly resilient, or simply very comfortable with his new life. Perhaps a bit of both.

"I'll be pushing for that outcome. I can't make any promises, but I believe that will be the case."

The three settled into conversation as Remus served dinner. Harry had been warned against talking about magic, but he was good at keeping secrets, and he was perfectly happy to talk about all of the things he had been doing in the muggle world in any case.

Three days later, a letter arrived, congratulating the pair for their approved placement order and wishing them the best of luck as guardian and ward.

Life continued thusly for Harry and Remus in the coming days, weeks, and months. With a bit of clever wandwork, Lupin and Harry were able to go into Diagon Alley regularly in disguise. As he now belonged to two very different worlds, Harry did his best to learn as much as possible about both, and was at times frustrated by the fact that he had to keep the two separate. He understood the necessity, however. Wars had been fought over much more trivial differences.

Harry had been able to make a few friends at his new school, though none were very close, and he knew that his life would remain a secret from them. His identity made it impossible to interact with other magicals without some sort of deceit in play, and as a result he had no friends his own age in the wizarding world. The fact that he had returned was a well-kept secret. This secrecy had left him somewhat isolated, and he was very appreciative that Jonas, at least, still visited regularly and was more or less a fixed point in Harry's life, as he took on the responsibility of watching him during full moons.

Bill had been accepted into a new training program with the Gringotts curse-breakers and was now very rarely able to meet, as his job now took him all over the world. Minerva, naturally, was busy at Hogwarts. She was still able to keep in touch by way of owl post, but her constant proximity to Dumbledore prevented her from leaving the school without causing suspicion. She had also been unable to approach the headmaster about the events of the past, as her oaths prevented her from naming her source and she was hesitant to bring up Harry's situation in any case, as it may have led to Albus himself looking into the Dursleys' whereabouts. She was perhaps less gracious with him than she had been previously, but if Dumbledore noticed, he left it unmentioned.

* * *

It was now mid December and Remus' frantic moods were beginning to simultaneously annoy and concern Harry. Whatever seemed to be bothering the werewolf was obviously important, but he refused to explain his behavior when Harry asked. Moony had been making odd trips in recent days, leaving Harry behind alone or with Jonas when he was available. He had even on one occasion taken Balthasar with him, and the snake was now seemingly in on the big secret and rather smug about it. In fact, it seemed as if everyone he knew was suddenly struck by a cheering charm. Harry couldn't begrudge them for being happy, but honestly, it was getting to be a bit much. Whatever the secret was, he hoped it didn't go on for much longer. As it would happen, it didn't.

Harry awoke a week later to the smell of breakfast. That in and of itself was odd. Normally Moony waited for Harry to wake up before starting the morning meal. Still, whatever it was smelled delicious, and Harry was soon up and dressed for the day. He softly padded his way into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning, Harry," McGonagall said with a grin as she took a sip of her morning brew.

"Good morning, Minerva," came the drowsy reply.

"Good morning," came a deeper voice from behind Harry.

Harry again replied with a nod. "Good morning, Bill"

"Finally awake there, Harry?" a third voice called from the living room.

"Barely, Jonas. I couldn't sleep. Kept feeling like I was forgetting something."

Finally Harry made it to the dining room table, where the last Maruader sat relaxing in his usual chair. "Happens to the best of us. Happy Christmas Harry." He nonchalantly chimed in.

Harry froze. He noticed the others in the room as if for the first time and shook his head to clear away the rest of his sluggishness.

"Bloody hell!"

Every adult in the room broke down in raucous laughter. He had been pranked. And on Christmas morning, no less. In reality he had been pranked for the past two weeks at least. He hadn't given a single thought to the holiday. Without the torment and additional duties that usually came before Christmas at the Dursley's, he had forgotten completely. A chorus of "Happy Christmas" came from the three others who had, of course, come for the festivities. He looked first to Bill, who Harry would have thought would be spending the day with his family. The others he could understand, as they ordinarily celebrated alone or at Hogwarts.

"Why aren't you at the Burrow, Bill?"

"Oh, I let my family know I'd be seeing a friend before I pop over there. They think I'm seeing someone in a more romantic setting, but I've let them believe that instead of correcting them. Should be interesting to watch their reaction when they find out the truth of where I've been spending my time.

"Anyway," he continued, "my brothers tend to sleep in even on Christmas morning, though Ginny doesn't, so I'll be along before they miss me. We wanted to surprise you for Christmas, and based on your reaction, I think we've succeeded."

Remus served breakfast, though Bill declined saying that there would be more than enough at the Weasleys, and his mother expected all her boys to eat at least two servings. Harry hardly tasted what he was eating, still shellshocked from before. The last time this group had all been gathered together was the day Harry moved in with Remus, and now four months later he was again surrounded by his closest friends.

The day, however, had only just begun, and Remus had been sure that Harry would never forget his first real Christmas. Harry and the rest finished breakfast with an eagerness seldom matched, and quickly made their way to the living room, the adults trailing behind Harry to observe him. A happy squeak escaped Harry as he saw the tree in one corner of the room, decorated with real icicles and snow, along with other baubles. It was a real tree, and seemed to Harry far superior to the plastic tree the Dursley's had insisted on having each year. What surprised Harry the most was the smell of fresh pine that permeated the room. It smelled absolutely divine, and the burning yule log dominating the fireplace offered sufficient explanation.

Beneath the tree, spilling onto the floor, was a crush of presents all wrapped in festive paper. Harry couldn't even comprehend the fact that those were for him In his entire life, he could not remember ever being given a single gift and now there were at least two dozen packages waiting for him. Harry looked to the man responsible for the whole affair and received a broad smile and silent nod of permission before he skipped to the pile and tentatively plucked a small box from the pile. Gingerly pulling apart the wrappings at the edges, he placed the paper to the side. He was planning on keeping it as a momento of the occasion. From inside the box he pulled a English-Latin pocket dictionary. A note stuck to the front indicated that the gift was from Minerva. Remembering the conversations they had had about his interest in Latin due to its history and importance in magic, he was delighted for a functional and thoughtful gift.

"I thought you might like a simple way to look up the roots of any spells you come across. It is surprising how few wizards care to learn the meaning of spells, though it has been shown to help in visualizing a spell's intended effects." She looked as though she may delve into another lecture, so Harry cut in before she could.

"Thank you, Minerva. I'll put it to good use." That seemed to mollify the witch and she indicated that he should get back to his other gifts.

Books made up the majority of the gifts, and Harry certainly wasn't complaining. Some books, likely from the kindly professor, were introductory volumes on many of the subjects he would be taking at Hogwarts. Muggle authors were also represented, though some of the mundane books had clearly been purchased in Diagon Alley, as the lion on the cover of _The Chronicles of Narnia_ seemed to be roaring defiantly. From Bill he received the first magical book he had ever noticed, _Magic of the Gods,_ complete with its stunning illustrations of men and women controlling the forces of nature. Those same feats were considered far fetched these days, but whether the original stories were exaggerated, completely imagined, or the characters were simply more powerful than modern magicals was unknown. From his earlier perusal of the book, he knew that some wizards such as Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were rumored to be capable of similarly powerful magic, though that was purely conjecture.

The reason for Balthasar's trip with Remus was explained away by the next gift Harry opened. It was a mokeskin bag with an undetectable expansion charm. Unlike a typical model however, this one had a small side pocket with an embroidered snake, and inside Harry found a sandy base and a heat lamp, perfect for Balthasar to remain hidden in when coiling around Harry was not an option. The main pocket was empty, and Harry quickly stashed his books inside to organize later. Thankfully, the feather-light charm on the bag made such a capacity manageable for the nine year old. The bag itself was no larger than Harry's admittedly small hand, so it fit quite nicely in his pocket. Though he would be sure to keep it safe, the nature of the bag made it impossible for any potential thief to open.

The final gift was a proper set of robes from Jonas, and he also had an announcement to make "on behalf of a mutual friend."

"Minnie!" he called.

A moment later the ever-eager house-elf appeared at his side bouncing slightly as she waited for Jonas to speak. Compared to his usual tone, he began more formally.

"I've been asked by St. Mungo's to work with a recently acquired elf, leaving Minnie with no supervising healer. Knowing this, I petitioned the president of the hospital on Minnie's behalf. Under his authority, he is aware of your recent stay with us, and he has agreed to let Minnie join your family as a personal house-elf, if you'll have her. We have not given her clothes, as this will be a gift to you. It is the president's hope that you will look favorably on the hospital going forward." He ended what had been clearly rehearsed, and resumed in his typical manor. "I assume that means he want's an endorsement from you when you reach your maturity."

Minnie didn't meet Harry's eyes, choosing instead to nervously tug at the hem of her uniform.

A house-elf was no small favor, to be sure, and Harry was already quite pleased to see Minnie again. Having her around would be brilliant, and he would appreciate having another friend around. Endorsing a hospital also seemed rather simple, and he would have done it without encouragement, given what St. Mungo's had done for him. However, Remus had explained a little about a house-elf's need to serve a magical being, and he currently wasn't one.

"Is this what you want, Minnie? You know I don't have magic now. Bonding with me could hurt you." He was careful not to suggest in any way that she was unwanted, as he knew her reaction to that would be tearful and disastrous.

"Mister Harry is having magic, sir. Mister Harry's magic is just hiding. Elves is still finding it just fine."

"You can bond with my magic?" Harry wondered.

"If Minnie is being wanted by Mister Harry, she will."

That confirmation settled things for Harry and he quickly accepted. He was only average height for a nine year old, but still had to kneel to meet the elf face-to-face. A meeting of the eyes was a necessary part of the bonding process. The eyes were a window to the magic, it was said. A shudder rocked the elf as she found Harry's magic and accepted him as her master.

"Master Harry's magic is being very angry now. Minnie is thinking it wants to be free."

Jonas, who of course had been the one to meet the goblins about the cleansing ritual, intervened. "Harry's magic will be freed on his eleventh birthday by the goblins. That's still over a year away, unfortunately, but we are confident it will be a success, especially knowing how well Harry will be cared for with you around." Minnie blushed at the flattery. She had always been treated well, but it was in her nature to be self-effacing. She promised to take good care of Harry before she popped away shyly to avoid the crowded room.

"Well that was all very serious," Moony commented. "I, for one, will appreciate having Minnie around. Also that frees up full moons for you, Jonas, though you're always welcome."

A sly smile graced Jonas' face as he answered, "I wouldn't miss those visits for the world." He was rewarded with a hug around his waist from the boy who had changed his life for the better.

As if to prove her usefulness, Minnie appeared briefly to vanish the wrappings and boxes, though she left the first gift alone as Harry wished. That paper was simply smoothed out and folded neatly next to the pile of gifts.

It was nearing nine o'clock, and Bill had promised to be at the Burrow on the hour. However, he knew what was coming next, and simply had to stay, even if it made him late. As he watched Lupin summon a plain manilla envelope, he turned his attention to Harry, who had also noticed the movement. A look of confusion crossed Harry's face as his guardian approached him nervously.

"What is it Moony?"

"Harry," he hesitated. "Four months ago I met a young man who changed my life forever. For eight years I had been alone, with only my memories of better times to live on. Loneliness drove me back to England, but I was a ghost of my former self... and then you came along, Mischief. Every thought of darkness left me the moment I laid eyes on you, and I knew then I would do anything to keep you safe. To keep you happy. I lost all those years with you, and it would break my heart to ever lose you again. I want this Christmas to be more than just our first as guardian and ward. I'd like it to be our first as a family."

Harry's shaking hands opened the envelope Moony gave him. Inside was a court order granted to Remus John Lupin, detailing the terms of adoption for one Harry James Potter. The forms themselves were all filled out, except the dotted line for Harry's name. Just above it were his Parent's names: James Ignotus Potter, and Lily Joy Potter _née_ Evans. Someone had the presence of mind to conjure a pen, though Harry couldn't say for certain who. All he could see was each letter of his name as he wrote it.

Today, for the first time in eight years, Harry had a father. The thought had tears steadily falling to his cheeks. Those who noticed seemed to know they were tears of joy, and merely smiled as he wiped his eyes. Not a single person in the room was unaffected by the outpouring of love Harry and Remus were sharing as they reached to the other and met in a tight embrace. The adoption would only make his place in Lupin's life official, but there were other members of Harry's new family, and they were all with him today. Looking over to his pile of presents, Harry knew that his family was the greatest gift of all.

* * *

 **AN:** _I do love corny Christmas scenes, what can I say? This was also my first attempt at a longer time skip, as four months is a lot to rehash when it can be easily summarized. Hopefully that worked. If not... well, just use your imagination._

 _Some of you may have noticed a slight change to the Prologue, on the recommendation of a reviewer. No plot points were changed, but I hope that I made James "Pushover" Potter a little less so in his fight against H-W-M-N-B-N._

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


	9. A Normal Life

**AN:** _As you may have guessed in my absence, life happened. I am back in school for my final year, and working on an application for Harvard Law, among others, so this story sort of got away from me. Also, I found it hard to reconcile the use of any further chapters to show the buildup to the ritual, which was frustrating and led to less motivation. This short chapter will be the last before I jump ahead to Harry's 11th birthday. I'll make no promises about my update schedule, but I have at least planned to set aside a few hours each week to work on my fics, now that things have settled in. If you notice any changes in my writing style, assume it's because I'm also writing several academic papers a week._

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

What passed for normal in the life of a wizard and his almost-magical son passed for Remus and Harry, respectively. Nightmares were a common occurrence for Harry, but he was hesitant to bring it up when his days were so full of life and magic. Most days, he quite honestly forgot most of the horrors he experienced in his dreams. Winter was much different with magic, he had quickly learned, and snowball fights with magically animated snowmen would take any child's mind off darker thoughts. Harry was no exception, and Moony always made time for him after both returned home from school or work.

Minnie had naturally proved to be a boon, as she was happiest when working or taking care of Harry or her friend Balthasar. Harry had never been a messy child, mostly because he possessed nothing to make messes with, but even he could never have matched the level of organization which Minnie seemed intent on maintaining. Books he left lying about were returned to his shelves with bookmarks to keep his place. His toothbrush (Remus insisted that mundane hygiene was far superior to magical in this case) was cleaned and sanitized every day. In many ways, Harry felt a bit lost without so much as a dirty dish to look after. He knew that Minnie would get upset if he tried to take over, but Harry seriously needed a hobby.

Luckily for Harry, hobbies were something the magical world had plenty of. After all, boredom was bound to sink in when the majority of tasks could be completed in moments by most people. Jonas suggested taking up a sport, magical or non-magical mattered little, as it would help him develop his fitness more naturally than potions and spells ever could. To Harry, there was really only one option, one which would honor his father's memory and please Minerva immensely: quidditch. He remembered the looks of longing that many students had when looking at the newest broom in Diagon Alley and assumed that the best way to make friends was to have something to say about the magical world's most popular sport.

As it was still far too cold to be thinking about flying just yet, Harry waited until spring to broach the topic with Moony. He had, of course, written to Minerva to be sure he would be able to fly without magic, and was reassured immediately when she responded affirmatively. The broom had all the magic required. In the past, more magically gifted players had dominated the quidditch pitch, since older brooms had been conduits for an individual's magic. Thankfully, Purebloods had changed this after noticing that their children were not always among the most gifted. In a rare compromise with progressives, they had evened the playing field by setting standards for flight enchantments and resistance to outside magic on all new models of brooms.

Remus was only too happy to take Harry to the Alley when he finally got around to asking. James had been a menace on the pitch in his glory days, and his old friend knew he would have been proud to see his son following in his steps. Lily, too, would have been excited merely for the fact that her son would be having fun. Remus knew she had raged about Harry's toy broom on his first birthday at first, but seeing him zipping around the cottage had forced her to admit that he was a natural. The Potters' cat, Rufus, had likely disagreed. Remus had never mentioned the incident to Harry, since he had only heard about it in a letter, but now he was happy to see that another bit of information about Harry's past had the boy smiling widely. He was only too quick to point out that cats and werewolves didn't get along, lest Harry get any ideas about adding a feline to the family. Minerva's form was deemed an exception, of course.

As it had now been several months since Harry's introduction to the Wizarding World, and he had frequented the Alley in his spare time, his usual glamours were easily recognizable to the many shopkeepers who knew him as James Evans. The name had been Minerva's suggestion, and he quite liked it. The problem was that Harry would need to pretend he didn't recognize anyone when he was finally reintroduced to the general public as himself. The owner of Quality Quidditch Supplies would be rather shocked to know that he would be selling a national hero his first broom today. However, the unsuspecting Norman Chase was quite happy to accommodate the young lad bouncing on his toes as he approached the counter.

"What can I do for you today, James?" Norman asked. He waved to Remus, or Charles as it were, who had followed Harry into the shop.

"My papa is buying me my first broom today!" Harry's excitement was mostly for show, but he truly was eager to get another taste of magic. Quidditch, at least, he didn't have to watch someone else do.

Norman the quidditch connoisseur led the duo to the lineup of brooms generally used by younger recreational players. In the end, Harry was left choosing between a few Comet models made for stability rather than speed, and chose the Comet 220, the second newest model. Brooms, in general, were rather handsomely priced and it was with some guilt that Remus told Harry he may expect a slightly underwhelming birthday haul as a result.

"If you teach me to fly, that would be worth a hundred presents." Harry replied earnestly. He may have his own room and his own things now, but Harry Potter would never be materialistic. He simply didn't know how he could ever take his new life for granted.

The warm smile Moony sent his way had Harry sure he'd be happier spending time with his dad and sharing more smiles than unwrapping presents in July.

* * *

The following weekend, Minerva made her excuses to Dumbledore and left Hogwarts to see Harry's first flight. Or rather, the first flight he would remember.

"Madam Hooch will never forgive me if I allow you to sit a broom like that, Harry."

"I heard some boys my age talking about it in the alley. They seemed pretty sure that both hands are meant to overlap."

"I expect they will discover their error the first time they attempt anything more difficult than taking off. You, however, will get learn properly or not at all."

"Yes, Minerva," Harry sighed. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Flying was supposed to be fun, he thought. It had been two hours already, and McGonagall had only just finished lecturing him on broom maintenance and the "noble history of quidditch." Harry adjusted his grip, with his dominant hand further away from him, as instructed.

It was finally time for some real flying to begin as McGonagall counted down for Harry's takeoff.

"Three… two… one!"

Harry kicked off from the ground, hard, just as he had been mentally drilled to do, and with grace more likely attributed to the broom's stability charms than any of its rider's skill, was up in the air. He kept climbing higher at a slight angle before making his first turn. Leaning ever so slightly to the left, Harry brought himself slowly around to face his small audience. Remus and Minerva were beaming, but Minnie seemed just shy of a panic attack. She had spent a significant amount of time healing Harry and could only hope he was careful enough not to undo her hard work with a flying accident.

Harry met Minerva's gaze meekly as he approached, having immediately recognized the truth in her claims of proper flying techniques.

"Sorry for doubting you, Minerva. I should have known the other boys were being silly."

"Nonsense. You've learned your lesson and someday they will learn theirs. An apology is hardly necessary for something so simple, though I appreciate your willingness to own up to your mistakes. Why don't you have another go around the pitch, and try whatever speed feels best." The house elf at her feet began hyperventilating at the thought. "Within reason," McGonagall added quickly.

Harry did as she suggested, and, much to the house elf's delight, he did not attempt any dangerous acceleration. He would have, but at the moment his daring was quelled by the peacefulness of solo flying. Taking things slow meant he could spend more time in the air, and that was something Harry was more than happy to do.

All too soon, however, Harry was back on solid ground. Moony had tears in his eyes, and his expression was set in a way Harry recognized at once. It was the face people made when he did something that reminded them of his father. A messy raven-haired youth on a broom would evoke memories in anyone who knew a young James Potter.

Once Harry had relinquished his broom to Minnie to be stored safely, Remus invited Minerva to the flat for tea and side-along apparated with Harry home to prepare.

Upon arriving, Harry raced to his room to tell Balthasar all about his first flight, and strangely enough, Balthasar asked to be taken next time. As he was usually so close to the ground, a bit of flying would be an entirely new experience. Personally, Harry believed Balthasar wanted to feel like a dragon, but kept that observation to himself lest he offend his slithering friend.

* * *

Though he now had a broom, Harry did not feel like the time was flying by as quickly as he wished it would. With his first real birthday approaching and the promise of seeing everyone gathered again, Harry's impatience was growing by the day. He had already decided not to have a party, as the day was more of an opportunity to catch up with his new family if there wasn't much in the way of structured celebration.

Harry's birthday would also mark the one year remaining before the ritual at Gringotts. The group had already decided to make goblin culture the focus of their studies for the remaining time, as Harry rightly stated that it would hardly do to insult those attempting to help him. In this endeavor, books were almost useless, but though Bill would have to give his lessons from abroad, his experience and expertise were priceless. Minerva suggested bringing Professor Flitwick into the fold, as it turned out he was half-goblin on his mother's side, but the risk of Dumbledore's interference was too great for the majority of the group to accept. Minerva conceded the point with the caveat that she be able to ask questions of the diminutive professor on her own.

* * *

 **AN:** _Well, there you have it. I apologize for extreme delay and short filler chapter. I've outlined beyond this point so writing might be fun again, meaning I might do it more regularly. This is certainly a chapter I will likely come back to once my muse returns, but I hope its current quality doesn't drive you all off._

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


	10. Wickedness and Whispers

**Chapter 10: Wickedness and Whispers**

July 31st, 1991

Ollivander's, makers of the finest wands since 382 B.C., was typically the first shop witches and wizards from non-magical backgrounds rushed to in Diagon Alley, yet Harry Potter had avoided the unassuming place like a sinner avoids church. He had glanced curiously inside on occasion, eager to catch a glimpse of a child's first intentional magic, but Harry himself had yet to approach the weathered store front. Until today.

Today was Harry's eleventh birthday, and if anyone in the wizarding world didn't already know that, a walk down the alley would cure them of their ignorance. It was, as far as Harry could tell, the busiest day he had ever witnessed, and the large banner floating above the street was an unnecessary explanation as to why. "Welcome home, Harry Potter." It would seem the wizarding population of Britain was expecting him to show up today. They were not to be disappointed. James Evans would be entering the wandmaker's shop, and Harry Potter would be leaving it soon after. Bracing himself, the most famous eleven-year-old in the world opened the door he had ignored for two years.

The silence was deafening after the roar of the crowd, but Harry Potter much preferred the quiet. It was into this quiet that a man appeared. He looked old enough to be the first wandmaker ever, in Harry's opinion. He didn't realize a person could have so many wrinkles.

"Greetings, Mr. Potter," the relic of a wizard began. "I wondered when you might decide to pay me a visit. Two years you've been here… I was beginning to worry."

"How did you..."

"… know it was you?" he interrupted. "I did not make a life for myself by _failing_ to detect a person's magic. It is how I match wands to their partners. You met my gaze, many months ago, and your magic was plain to see, even if it is not easy to feel. I knew it was you at once - you who were touched by the darkest of curses- for your magic rages within you like the violent sea rages against the shore. I know what today brings for you, Mr. Potter, and you would do well to remember who gave you that scar."

The warning, if it was one at all, was unclear. Harry knew who gave him the scar, he had long ago pressed for answers and gotten them. Voldemort, however, was dead, and Harry couldn't make sense of the old wizard's ominous riddle. How he knew about the ritual was equally unsettling. Harry got the distinct impression that Garrick Ollivander knew a great deal more than he ought to.

"You seem to know a lot, sir, so you must know why I need a wand today."

"Indeed I do. I'm sorry to have to introduce you to your wand in a less than ideal circumstances, but I have a feeling you're used to a bit of adversity."

The man was digging. Harry was really beginning to dislike the strange shopkeeper.

"I need a wand, sir. Being happy about it will just have to wait."

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Let us begin."

And so they did. Mr. Ollivander disappeared into the back of the store, mumbling to himself as he gathered half a dozen boxes. How he made his selection was decidedly impossible to determine, since there were thousands of similar packages haphazardly packed into something meant to resemble aisles. He returned grinning widely, as though the seriousness from before had never been. Laying the boxes on the counter, he invited Harry forward.

"Your situation may be unique, but I have been matching wands for more than a century. I am certain there is a wand here for you, if not in this set. Try them in whichever order feels best."

Harry reached for the third wand in the row, which seemed to amuse the old man opposite him. Harry had never held a wand, and it was with immense disappointment that he felt nothing out of the ordinary upon raising this one. The second and fifth wands failed to react any differently.

Picking up the first wand in line almost had Harry leaping back in shock. He had felt something! He focused on the feeling and frowned. It was mildly irritating, like a buzzing in his ears, or the incessant mumbling of an aged merchant. That wouldn't do. He set the wand down. Four down, two left.

If Harry had been irritated by the previous wand, the following two were almost enough to make him ill. Ollivander's excitement at his negative reactions did little to improve Harry's mood.

"Curious! very curious... I had my suspicions, of course, when you chose the third wand first. I ordered them in order of their creation. Three is a mildly magically significant number, and it was the first you sought out. That particular wand is also twenty-one centimeters in length, another significant number. Of the remaining wands, both two and five are prime numbers most commonly used in arithmancy, and each is exactly twenty-nine centimeters in length, yet those were passive. It is the fact that the others reacted negatively to your presence that suggests my suspicions are correct. The wands are recognizing their role as conduits for your magic, and only a magically powerful wand will do. A true partner wand, acting in concert with your own magical core."

Some of that made sense to Harry, especially the bit about the old man being suspicious. The rest made no sense at all. Still, Ollivander was undeterred. He left and returned with a seventh wand, and the haunting, serious mask was once more in place.

"The seventh wand, measuring twenty-one centimeters. It is one half of a pair, sold fifty-three years apart, and the other has already left its mark upon you. I doubt you'll find a more suitable wand in all of Britain."

Harry reached out, imagining he could almost hear the wand asking to join him. Skin met polished holly and, like a hot knife thrust into his hand, Harry felt the wand reach through to meet his magic. It was foreign, and yet Harry could feel something within him accept the intrusion.

"Beware that wand, Mr. Potter, for it will seek out its brother as surely as the brother will seek you. It is not always clear why, but the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. Be glad such an exceptional one chose you."

"This wand's brother... it belonged to Voldemort?"

"It did. The question we must ask is whether or not its loyalties have changed."

Harry left the shop burdened by more worries than he had entered with, and the day was far from over.

Harry didn't return Lupin's smile when he met his eyes. He hadn't wanted anyone present for the wand selection, in case it didn't work. Harry knew Moony well enough to know he would have stayed till Harry had been matched with a wand no matter how long it took, but it was far more difficult for the kindly werewolf to hide his annoyance whenever things went poorly for Harry. "Protective instinct," he had called it.

Seeing the wand in Harry's hand, and noting the unmatched facial expression, Remus knelt in front of Harry. It had long ago become apparent that Harry would keep his eyes downcast when giving bad news, so Lupin simply changed his own perspective so he could see his son's face.

"What's wrong, cub?"

"Mr. Ollivander sold me a wand like Voldemort had, and he was kind of creepy about it too."

Among the many other things Remus loved about Harry was his tendency to give straight answers. He rarely brushed things off like other children, or adults for that matter, might have. That was in part due to Harry's instinct to answer direct questions immediately to avoid confrontation, but regardless of its origins, it did make parenting easier.

"Is the wand a good match? I know you'd rather not have another connection to that madman, but today depends a great deal on you trusting that wand to focus your magic."

"The wand is brilliant. Really it is... I can't explain why, but it already feels like a part of me."

Lupin nodded knowingly. "That is how it should be. A wand is more than a tool, it should be an extension of the wizard who holds it."

It was unfortunate that Harry's wand selection, which ought to have been a joyous occasion as it was for other young magicals, was little more than a necessary errand to prepare for the ritual scheduled later that day. Still, Harry was happy with the results, as he could feel the barely restrained power whenever he focused on the newest proof of his dormant arcane talents.

As Harry reclaimed his mokeskin bag from Remus, Balthazar emerged from his special pocket and joined his master and friend to offer what encouragement he could.

"I can senssse the connection you share with that wand. I felt it from the moment you took hold of it in the shop, though I did not know then what was happening. I felt ssstrange... almossst as if I had touched your magic for the first time myself. Whatever those banking warriors sssay, I will be with you for the ritual. It is my magic as much as yours now."

With the promised assistance of the goblins, his new wand, and Moony and Balthazar by his side, Harry was feeling quite confident that today's main event would be a resounding success. He could only hope that the Fates were on his side.

* * *

Whispers rippled through the crowd in Diagon Alley as Harry Potter made his way to Gringotts bank. The ripple of sound quickly became a wave, and as Harry heard his name echoing in strange voices all around him, he froze. He took a breath to steel himself, stood a bit taller, and smiled pleasently at the people around him. Moony had warned him that his real identity would draw unwanted attention, but Harry hadn't realized just how fast his presence in the alley would be noticed. He and Moony were only halfway to the bank and already the crowd closing in had completely blocked their path.

Moony, though usually shy himself, sensed Harry's growing discomfort and took control of the situation as best he could.

"Excuse me, sir," he addressed the man closest to them, "do you think you could help Harry and myself get to Gringotts? He has an appointment quite soon and we wouldn't want to offend the goblins on our first visit."

"Of course! I'd be delighted to escort you there myself. And if I may, Mr. Potter, I'd like to wish you a very happy birthday."

"Thank you, Mister...," Harry left the thought unfinished.

"Hopkins. Laurence Hopkins, at your service. My daughter Laurel looks forward to meeting you at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. Do say hello if you see her. She'll be in your year. A Hufflepuff, to be sure."

"I will. Thank you, Mr. Hopkins."

The three pushed through the crowd, with Laurence leading the way, with Harry and Remus following in his wake. It was fortunate that the crowd minded its manners, as no one reached toward Harry as he passed. Harry smiled pleasantly as he went, until they arrived at the base of the steps leading to the entrance of the bank. The sense of foreboding that Harry had thus far fended off now weighed heavily on his mind, causing his smile to falter. This would be his first time entering the bank since the fateful meeting nearly two years ago. Only Moony's hand on his shoulder kept Harry moving up toward the door.

* * *

A stout goblin approached the pair as soon as they thanked Mr. Hopkins and stepped through the double doors.

"Follow me, please, Mr. Potter. The Council of Elders is waiting in the ritual chamber."

The duo followed the nameless goblin past the tellers and account managers' rooms, through a series of passageways, until they reached a stone door at least twice as tall as Lupin. Though slightly smaller than the precious metal doors, this one clearly held more significance. Harry and Remus both shuddered as they crossed the threshold.

"Well done, humans. You would have died just now if you wished the Nation harm."

"Thanks for the warning," Remus grunted.

A new, more feminine voice interrupted any further discussion.

"Welcome, child of man. Welcome, child of the moon."

Harry's eyebrows lifted as he heard the goblin in the center of the assembled elders speak. He had never seen or heard a female goblin, nor had he been able to learn much about them from Bill, who could only say that males outnumbered female goblins ten-to-one in most places.

"Greetings, Chieftess. We are honored to share your stone today." The greeting came from Harry, as this was his meeting, and age mattered little to goblins. To share stone with a goblin was simply the expression used to express thanks as a guest within the subterranean city.

Harry's familiarity with their culture garnered no reaction from the goblins, though the lack of reaction was scarcely indicative of their thoughts on the matter. Any goblin was difficult to read, it was expected that the elders would be even more so.

"Have you returned to us for aide, Mr. Potter? The offer only stands today, and no further."

"I have indeed come to seek the aid of the Goblin Nation, Chieftess, having acquired a wand and having aged to my eleventh year, as agreed."

The formal language was strange coming from Harry, but he carried himself with as much dignity as a child could muster.

"We shall begin immediately. Only those of us with direct involvement may remain. The rest may watch from beyond the ward line."

At her instruction, all but three of the elders departed to the anteroom. The unnamed goblin who had escorted them pushed Remus roughly in the same direction.

"It will be okay Harry. Just trust your magic, and it will do the rest."

Harry's jaw was clenched too tightly to respond. He settled for a stiff nod.

The remaining goblins approached and formed a triangle, with Harry in its center.

"Disrobe. Leave everything but your wand." Harry did as he was told, forcing down his shame as the rough scarring on his chest drew the eyes of the elders.

* * *

In the anteroom, the mood darkened considerably.

One of the elders, a male, spoke up. "I had heard of the boy's battles... I doubted the truth of his pain. I do not doubt him now. The Nation commends Mr. Potter's strength of mind and body. He will stand proudly in our presence." Clasping his hands, the elder spoke in his native tongue. Others soon joined him, focusing on Harry as they did so. Remus watched as Harry's posture shifted slowly from the meek child he so often became when his past was revealed to the proud young man he would one day become.

"A great curse has been lifted from his mind. He will be ashamed of his strength no longer."

Lupin's eyes misted. "Thank you. You have done what I could not as his parent."

"We have done something no father should be asked to do, Mr. Lupin. Your thanks is welcome, but not required. We have only hastened his acceptance of his past, something you were helping with greatly, I am sure."

The arrival of a familiar redhead distracted Remus, and his elation increased as he called out his welcome.

"Bill! Whatever are you doing here? I thought you were on assignment in Cairo."

"I was until this morning, when I received an invitation to watch the ritual. The letter contained a portkey, which dropped me just outside of the bank." He looked to where a naked Harry now lay shivering on the cold stone floor. "How is he?"

"Already quite changed, thanks to the elders."

Before Bill could clarify what his lupine friend meant, he was silenced by the nearest goblin. The ritual had begun.

* * *

 _Harry felt cold. Colder than he had ever felt in his life, even given his experience with shoveling snow in sub-zero temperatures. He knew the instant the ritual began, because he simply stopped feeling even the slightest chill._

 _The healers, if they were doing anything at all, were doing it silently. Harry could hear his heart beat, could feel the blood pushing through his veins, could trace his awareness of every part of his body, as if observing it for the first time._

 _Into this awareness came another force. It was the familiar hum of his magic, muted slightly by its restraints. It joined with his mind, seeking a weakness in the binding. The wand. Find the wand, Harry thought, and his magic responded. Like a great snake uncoiling from his chest, the magic sought out the breach Harry had felt earlier that day._

 _An image filled Harry's mind, showing a white snake facing a larger black adversary, and beyond them a glimpse of the outside world. The black creature filled Harry with dread. It was not meant to be here with his magic. The white snake turned toward Harry, sensing his presence, and seemed to seek his permission to proceed. Acceptance. The snake struck with all its might, and the enemy responded in kind._

With great haste, the three elders in the chamber threw up magical shields around themselves as wild magic beat violently against them, and the fragile silence of the chamber was broken by a sudden, tortured scream.

* * *

Chaos reined in the antechamber.

Sharpened axes appeared in the hands of each goblin, summoned by foreign magic.

Remus found himself hurled against the nearest wall, a gleaming blade pressed to his throat, and the fiercest goblin he had ever seen wielding it. Next to him, he sensed Bill in a similar predicament.

"How dare you! You would bring a possessed child into our most hallowed halls, when we have offered our aid? Give me one reason not to wet my blade with your treacherous blood!"

Lupin couldn't respond, his eyes were glued to the visage of his son's agonized thrashing. What on earth had gone wrong? There was absolutely no chance of Harry being possessed. He had not suffered any loss of memory, and his behavior was consistent. _By all things sacred... it couldn't be..._ "Voldemort," he finished in a whisper.

"Indeed. That young man is now fighting for control of his body, nay, his very soul, against what is by all accounts a superior force. Should he fail, none in your party will leave this place alive." Goblins did not practice vagueness in their threats.

Bill tried to reason with the livid council members. "We couldn't have known. The binding prevented all magical scans and no possession could have passed through. Whatever Voldemort did to Harry occurred before the binding was in place. Likely the same night he survived the Killing Curse."

"It matters little, curse-breaker. There are only two possible outcomes: Harry subdues the invading magic, taking it as his own, or the Dark Lord rises, more powerful than before."

"Harry will pull through," Moony argued. "You said it yourself that his strength is beyond doubt. I'll not start doubting him now." In silence, Remus prayed that he was right. If not, he doubted he'd care much what the goblins did to him. He would rather die than live knowing he had failed his son.

* * *

 _If pain had a color, it would be black. Black like the snake biting deep into Harry's own magic. Black like the nothingness that threatened to overcome Harry's ability to fight on. Yet fight he did, lending strength to his magic through shear force of will. His magic reeled back, preparing one last attack, and sent pure white fangs into the skull of dark magic. The blackness faded away, and the white snake grew in size, its battle won._

Harry heard a soft sigh as he felt the binding shatter under the efforts of his new found magical strength. Whispers like a faraway crowd flitted through Harry's mind, urging him to come closer.

Harry Potter opened his eyes, both sparkling brightly with magic, free at last.

In the anteroom, Remus and Bill sagged against the wall in relief, and the goblin elders lowered their weapons. There were still questions to be answered. but Harry was okay, and for now that was enough.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Well that took... forever. But, hey, its done now. The amount of work I've been doing recently for school really ought to be illegal. Please leave reviews, if y'all have comments, suggestions etc. My Inbox is always open for lengthier responses if you prefer that._

 _I've been asked why this story is marked as Harry/Multi. A quick look at my profile should answer that, but to be clear, Harry will eventually enter a polyamorous relationship (Not at all reminiscent of a harem. More along the lines of what you'd find in **Whispers in the Night** by Jean11089). The next chapter, working title "Contractual Obligations" will explore this theme in greater detail. Feel free to suggest partners, though my ideas are pretty solid already, and therefore unlikely to change without excellent persuasion by my dear readers._

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


	11. Contractual Obligations

**Chapter 11: Contractual Obligations**

The host of goblins, accompanied by one lucky man and one very lucky werewolf, filed into the ritual chamber and approached Harry. He seemed... better, for lack of a better word, Remus thought. Harry stood proudly, unashamed of his ravaged flesh. His eyes twinkled in much the same way as Albus Dumbledore's were said to. Perhaps it was simply a sign of powerful magic.

"Hello, Bill. I didn't expect to see you here today. Moony said you couldn't make it."

"I received a last minute invitation, courtesy of my employers." He grinned at the boy's enthusiasm. Rather than seeming drained from the ritual, Harry looked refreshed, as if just waking from a much needed sleep.

Nearby, the three healers consulted with their fellow goblins in the rough language of their race. It was impossible to translate, even for Bill, as they spoke so quickly and spoke over each other so frequently. When they concluded, they turned toward their guests.

"It would seem we have misjudged you, Mr. Lupin and Curse-breaker Weasley. While young Harry was truly combating the Dark Lord's spirit, it was a form of possession known to few goblins and fewer men. We will be taking our findings to our lead researchers, but you needn't fear retribution for the damage the violent magic has caused to our companions and to the wards. I am told they will recover."

Harry dressed as the goblins spoke with his friends, again in hushed tones, deflecting questions until more was known about the events they had just witnessed.

"If the three of you will please join Account Manager Riptooth, I believe he is expecting you," the Chieftess addressed them in due time. It was a clear dismissal, and the group left after expressing their sincere gratitude to the Nation. Harry was careful not to make any promises of aid in return, as he knew such an offer could come back to haunt him.

* * *

"The young warrior returns, triumphant! Welcome back, Heir Potter. I took the liberty of opening your accounts when I heard the news. There is some urgent manners to attend to regarding your House that must be completed immediately. Afterwards you will be free to leave or do further business with Gringotts as you please."

"What's wrong with the house?" Harry asked, confused as to how that might be relevant to the conversation.

"Not the house that you live in, Heir Potter. I was speaking of the Ancient Houses, to which the Potters belong. As heir, you are expected to continue your family's legacy. Surely you've been told as much?"

"I have, sir. It was part of my education on Wizard Customs and the role of the Goblin Nation in Magical Britain. I just misunderstood, I think."

"Very well. I forget that you are still a child. You carry yourself more confidently now than when I last saw you. Shall we begin with the subject in question? Your family here is welcome to stay for this discussion, if it suits you."

Harry smiled at the inclusion of Bill as part of his family. He had begun to think of Bill as an older brother. Minerva was something akin to what Harry assumed an aunt should be, and Jonas was probably his closest friend and confidant for the things he was too nervous to talk to Moony about. Regardless of the technicalities of his relationships, Harry knew that having those people around made him happy.

"I'd like them to stay. They can probably explain the things I don't understand."

"Very well. The first thing on our agenda is perhaps the most frustrating, though you may disagree. I have here a copy of your parents will." Riptooth opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a sealed envelope. "Unfortunately, this will has been sealed under the authority of the Wizenmagot. The head of that body is Albus Dumbledore, with whom you are certainly familiar."

Harry and both older men immediately started fuming. _Yet another bone to pick with the old man_ , Harry thought.

Clearly, Riptooth noticed the reaction to that bit of news. "Before you go sue the Chief Warlock for tampering, you may want to hear his reasoning."

When the three calmed themselves, he resumed speaking. "Many believe that the Potters' will was meant to be witnessed and executed by Dumbledore himself. This is untrue. The signed witness is a man who may have influenced the will in his own favor. A man who would be legally required to share a room with the Potter Heir for a public reading if this will were to be opened, irrespective of his current status. Albus Dumbledore felt it necessary to prevent Harry from ever being in the presence of one Sirius Orion Black."

Remus leapt up and growled. His eyes darted to the will with a look of pure hatred. He clutched at the mark on his arm, barely visible beneath self-inflicted scars, that seemed to burn with renewed energy. Watching him closely, if a bit cautiously, Harry put the pieces together.

"The fourth Marauder. The one you never name in your stories... that was Sirius Black?"

"He betrayed us!" Remus shouted. Remus _never_ shouted.

"That son of a bitch sold Lily and James to Voldemort, and killed Wormtail himself. Fucking Deatheater turncoat!"

Thankfully for Harry's sanity, he already knew most of that, otherwise he would certainly have been overwhelmed. All he had been missing was a name. Anger about his parents' deaths that he hadn't known he carried suddenly had an outlet. For the first time, Harry felt the desire for revenge. Sirius Black was going to pay.

"How do I open the will?"

A loud "What!?" came from both of his companions as soon as Harry finished speaking.

"I need to hear him tell me why he did it. I've heard almost every story about the Marauders, and not one of them explain why Sirius betrayed my parents." Harry struggled to explain his new burning need. Vengeance steeped in genuine curiosity. _Why did Sirius Black do it? Was he ever really their friend?_

Riptooth, though hesitant, was obligated to respond. "Technically, you are the head of House Potter, though you are not yet able to claim your lordship. Under your authority, this will could be unsealed immediately. However, it would then become binding. Any measures you choose to dispute would need to be fought quickly. The Potter family has a team of solicitors on retainer, I believe, should you choose to do so, but I feel compelled to point out that anger is a very poor motivation for reckless decisions."

"Harry, look at me," Remus begged. "Please don't do this. Not today. I understand why you want to. I really do, but we both need time to digest this before acting."

Bill merely nodded in agreement. Harry had just one other opinion to discover.

"Let me talk to Balthazar. Sometimes he knows me better than I know myself. If he believes we should wait, I will, but if he disagrees, I'll be reading that will today." He looked straight into his father's eyes and saw fear and pain there. Old wounds had been opened, and Moony was in no better a position to cope than Harry.

"I won't deny that I'm angry, Moony, but I also need to know what's in there, and I need to know why my parents' closest friend led Voldemort to our house that night."

Remus could only shake his head sadly as he gave Harry his pack and allowed Balthazar to join them. The fate of the discussion would be decided by a snake.

The group received anther shock as Balthazar emerged from his pocket. Where once his scales had had been dark, glossy green, there were now pure white scales in their place. Only Harry recognized the possible reason for the change, having seen his magic take a similar form.

"Balthazar... you've changed."

"Yesss... I have. And in more ways than one. The connection I share with your magic ssseems complete. I was wracked with terrible pain before shedding my ssskin, and appearing as I do now."

"I sssaw you! My magic was like a white sssnake, fighting the ssspirit of Voldemort."

"Your magic is a part of you, and I am a part of your magic. Thisss is my only explanation for the change. I sssense you have more to discuss?"

Harry was thinking of ways to summarize the events of the past ten minutes, when Balthazar began to hiss in staccato.

"That is new. I sssee what you have ssseen and I understand the problem. I agree with your choice, Master. The truth must be known... yet I think thisss truth may cost more than you think," Blathazar finished, pointing with his tail in Moony's direction, where the man held his face in his hands, no doubt trying to decide whether to continue arguing or not.

A rush of guilt slammed into Harry's chest. After all his adoptive father had done for him, and never once leading him astray, Harry was about to ignore his pleading for his own gain. The thought turned Harry's stomach, and a bitterness rose in his throat. He looked down, ashamed of his behavior.

"I'm sorry, dad," Harry started. "I wasn't thinking about how you must feel. I was being selfish." Tears trickled down Harry's face as he thought of letting his family down so callously.

Remus looked up at Harry, recognizing the olive branch he was being offered. "I'm sorry too, cub. I should have explained my reasons instead of reacting how I did. Can we agree to leave the will for now? If you still want to open it in a week, I'll contact the solicitors and prepare to fight whatever Black may have convinced your parents to write."

"Okay," Harry murmured, still refusing to meet Lupin's eyes.

"Come here, son." Moony opened his arms wide and Harry rushed into his embrace, tears now flowing freely. "It's all right, Harry. It's all right."

* * *

Goblins by nature were not comfortable with such displays of emotion. Riptooth gave the pair a moment, conversing quietly about areas of mutual interest with the eldest Weasley child. Deciding to forego further discussion of the will, he introduced the second piece of business, now knowing for certain that this news would be more welcome.

"If you would take your seats again, gentlemen, we can move on to more pleasant matters."

"Are you certain of that?" came the reply. Remus' question was laced with doubt.

"As a matter of fact, I am. What remains to be done is a matter of contractual obligation for the Heir of the Potter legacy. Specifically, it seems our young warrior has inherited three marriage contracts. That two of those contracts technically call for marriage to himself leads to us to the pleasantness I mentioned, by way of a legal loophole."

Everyone in the room was aware of marriage contracts, though opinions on the subject were much varied. Riptooth, of course, saw it as little more than a cultural marker for the Wizarding World. Bill, himself being a pureblood heir, saw the contracts as a formality, as marriages were often arranged by parents even in the muggle world, through influence if not direct intervention. Remus, a half blood, knew of the contracts and had come to believe they were a malignant relic of more prejudiced times. Harry, though only eleven, was well versed in magical tradition and saw the contract as a way to grow his small family, which seemed all right by him.

"What's involved in this loophole?" Bill asked.

Riptooth folded his hands across his desk before responding. "I believe a thorough explanation may be required. Harry is the heir to both the Potter and Peverell lines through a marriage several generations ago. The contracts in question were written before that marriage, and they arranged for the families to unite if ever they should each be left with only one surviving member. Harry is the first instance of a sole surviving member of either line, though the two have already merged. Thus, Harry would be obligated to marry himself, which is clearly impossible and probably illegal." He paused to be sure his audience was following. "Another pureblood law allows for sole surviving heirs to be emancipated early, in order to make them more suitable candidates for marriage, thus continuing the bloodlines."

Bill and Remus furrowed their brows as they both competed in a sort of mental gymnastics to process what was being said. It was Bill who worked it out first.

"So what you're saying is that Harry can be emancipated now, giving him all the rights of an adult wizard? What's the catch?"

"Simply put, Harry must take a wife for each line, in order to fulfill the terms of the contracts. Who those wives are is up to him, in theory." Riptooth directed the rest of his reply to Harry. "If you choose not to fulfill the contracts, the penalty is a five hundred galleon fine, adjusted for inflation. You would pay that amount to the insulted party, in this case, yourself."

Lupin's jaw dropped while Bill simply started laughing. Oh, how he loved working with goblins. A man as clever was hard to find.

"Hold on... Sir, didn't you say I had three contracts? That leaves one more."

"So it does, young warrior. So it does. This one, I'm happy to report, was arranged personally by your parents during the last war, shortly after they learned they would be having a son. The other family involved is the Ancient and Noble House of Bones. The House is currently lead by Amelia Bones, whose husband Edgar was the Head of House. He was killed, along with his brother and sister-in-law, in the final days of the war. Amelia is now the guardian of her niece, Susan Bones, for whom this contract was arranged. Susan will be your wife someday, though she will keep her maiden name. Any children will also be named Bones, thus keeping the line intact."

Bill let out a low whistle. Multiple wives were uncommon in Britain, but not unheard of. He knew for certain that Amos Diggory had two wives, though he never asked the reason for it. "Damn, Harry. Three wives, or one? That's an awfully big choice to make, but I think I speak for everyone when I say we'll support you whichever you decide."

Next to him, Remus signaled his agreement. Compared to the news of Sirius Black being the gatekeeper of the Potters' will, the idea of Harry someday marrying more than one girl was a joyful alternative. In truth, he knew he would be teasing Harry about it as soon as he was old enough to start dating.

"I've always wanted a big family. I just have one question. Would being emancipated mean I can't stay with my dad?"

That would be a dealbreaker for Harry. A big family in the future meant nothing compared to the family he had now. Moony smiled at the meaning behind his words. They had had a rough day, but they were still family. Nothing would get in the way of that.

"You could continue as you are. All that changes is that you will legally be allowed to practice magic outside of school. You can also send a proxy to the Wizenmagot to cast votes in your name, though that would make your change in status public."

This time it was Lupin who noted the significance of that choice. "I think it would be best if very few people knew about this. We can't be certain that Harry's status wouldn't be used against him in some way."

"I thought as much. We would not, for instance, like to see Harry forced to duel a much more competent wizard to settle disagreements. Either way, I must know your choice today regarding the Potter and Peverell contracts. I will give you some time alone to discuss it." Riptooth stood and left the room, leaving the three to make their choice. Harry would be listening to his family this time.

* * *

Half an hour later, Riptooth returned. Seeing Harry seated with a look of anticipation, the account manager guessed the outcome of the private talk.

"It's been decided then?" he asked

Harry made his reply, "it has. I accept the terms of the contract as heir to the Potter name. I accept the terms of the contract as heir to the Peverell name."

A flash of magic surrounded Harry, sealing the promise. It was, oddly enough, Harry's first and last magical act as a child.

"Well met, Lord Potter. Well met, Lord Peverell."

"Well met, Master Riptooth." Harry grinned. The feeling his magical oath had given him was lingering still, like a cold wind on his skin. Gooseflesh covered his arms as the magic dissipated.

"As Head of House, all your family vaults are now accessible. The Potters spent a great deal on the war effort, but you are wealthy still. Few families have ever been as industrious as yours, and only the oldest families could rival your accounts. Gringotts will continue investing your gold, if you wish it. A small percentage of the profits will be taken as a fee."

"May I ask what percentage Gringotts takes?"

"Four and a half percent. On an account as large as the Potters', the income is generous."

Harry had learned a great deal about goblins from Bill, including the integrity of their work, and the cultural value associated with good business. With that in mind, he made his choice.

"For the aid given by the Goblin Nation to my self, I would like to double that percentage for a period of eleven years."

Riptooth's eyes grew wide, a rare reaction for the veteran banker. "I humbly accept your proposal, Lord Potter. The Nation appreciates your business. May your gold flow like a river."

"And may your enemies' blood flow beside it," Harry finished. Both Riptooth and Bill looked mightily impressed. It was customary for goblins, as both a capitalistic and a combatant race, to exchange blessings in such a way, but it was unusual, or rather exceptionally rare, for a wizard to formulate an appropriate reply as Harry had.

He didn't know it yet, but Harry Potter had just made a very favorable impression on the Goblin Nation. They had already begun calling him "young warrior," in respect for the his strength facing the horrors he had survived. When Riptooth would later relay this discussion, some would begin calling him "young champion." The meaning would not be clear to any outsider, no matter how educated, but within the Nation, it meant more than could be expressed in words. It seemed Riptooth had been wise to offer Harry his help years ago.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I know what you must be thinking. "Another chapter so soon?" Well, yeah. It was a choice between writing the fifteen pages I have due Monday or writing a few thousand words for this chapter. The choice was clear... although I still have to do the less fun work later... Oops. Don't expect another miracle._

 _Miss Bones will appear soon enough. She and Harry have a lot in common, so I feel like they make sense as my first revealed pairing. More girls will follow, as they must (damn marriage contracts used as convenient plot devices), but we may not see clear candidates for our young Lord's other Ladies for some time. He's eleven, folks. I think I was still afraid of cooties at that age. I certainly wasn't making a list of suitable wives._

 _Regardless, please continue to review and leave suggestions._

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


	12. Redheads, Rodents, and Remorse

**Chapter 12: Redheads, Rodents, and Remorse**

The day following Harry's return to his magical self, Jonas and Bill arrived at the flat, ready to take advantage of a shared day off work with Harry. With exactly a month left till Harry began Hogwarts, it was decided he would be introduced to a few people closer to his own age. Thus, the day would be spent in Diagon Alley, where the Weasleys would be doing their back-to-school shopping.

It had been decided some time ago that Bill's parents could be clued in to the reason their eldest son kept disappearing without explanation. They had been slightly disappointed, Bill recalled, that he had not, in fact, been regularly meeting with a potential love interest. When they heard that he had been secretly meeting Harry Potter for over a year, they were skeptical. At the time, Harry had yet to be seen in public, let alone out with Bill. It took some convincing, but the adult Weasleys now knew a great deal about Harry, though his exact circumstances had been referred to as "running away" from neglectful relatives. As was her wont, Mrs. Weasley had been fretting over Harry's circumstances, disturbed that she could not tell anyone without breaking the oath she had made.

Harry was excited to meet more children his age. At his mundane school in London, he had failed to make any real connections with his peers. Hopefully, without the necessity for complete secrecy, he could soon have friends. Bill had told him all about his siblings, and the twins sounded as though they would have fit in with the Marauders in their school days. Ron was a few months older than Harry, and would be in his year at Hogwarts, so Harry hoped they got along. He would have to remind Balthasar not to eat the boy's pet rat. That would be a poor way to start a friendship.

* * *

Harry flooed to the Leaky Cauldron after Bill, with Moony a few seconds behind. The remaining Weasleys were gathered in a booth by the exit, having arrived early for the first time in recent history at the urging of the matronly Mrs. Weasley. The distinctive red hair gave them away

"Harry, dear! It's so nice to finally meet you." She approached Harry at a sedate pace, having heard he didn't take kindly to people coming too close. Bill wouldn't explain more, but Molly was no fool, and she was certainly an observant woman when it came to the wellbeing of any child. Harry had been hurt badly by someone. She simply didn't know what sort of harm had been done.

"I can't believe how big you are. It seems only yesterday your parents introduced you to us. Bill tells us he's come to think of you as family. I would hope that someday you may come to think of us as the same. But my, how you look just like James. And with Lily's lovely green eyes."

Harry extended his hand and smiled up at the woman. "It's nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Weasley. Bill has endless praise for his family."

Arthur Weasley came after his wife, following her example. "We look forward to having you at the Burrow one of these days, Harry. We keep meaning to invite you for dinner, but Bill tells us you've been quite busy of late."

"I have. I almost forgot I needed to get my supplies still. Thankfully I did, since I got to meet all of you."

One by one the other Weasleys came and introduced themselves to Harry. Ginny blushed scarlet as she stammered out her greeting. Harry smiled, glad he wasn't the only one nervous about meeting new people. Meeting the Weasleys after all he had heard from Bill had Harry feeling the need to impress them. He didn't want them to keep Bill away from him for any reason.

"Shall we be off then?" Remus called to the group. "We better hurry if we're to beat the morning crowds."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. The morning crowd was a new occurrence, and had been happening since Harry's birthday, as people gathered to catch a glimpse of the Boy-Who-Lived. Combined with the Hogwarts shoppers, it made navigating the alley rather difficult. At least the shopkeepers were nicer to Harry because of it. Business was booming once again.

* * *

Entering through the brick portal, the group made its way to Gringotts so the Weasleys could make a withdrawal for today's expenses. With five children in school, it would be another year of hand me downs where possible. Harry refrained from offering to pay, as Remus had told him that the Weasleys were a proud bunch, and would refuse any type of charity. Many of the goblins paused as Harry entered the bank, curious to see him again so soon, and without an appointment. Harry did not seem to notice, but Bill was far more experienced with goblins, and the special attention being paid to Harry unnerved him. He had not realized that word of Harry's actions would spread so quickly, yet he could think of no other reason for goblins to look pleased at his appearance.

"What can Gringotts do for you today, Mr. Potter?"

 _Well_ , Bill thought, _at least they aren't calling him Lord_. Riptooth must have protected Harry's change of status under client confidentiality. No goblin would break that trust.

"Nothing at the moment. Thank you, Griphook. I'm just here with the Weasleys for some shopping today," Harry answered, nodding in the direction of the redheads.

"Very well, Mr. Potter." The goblin approached the family, who were waiting in line for a teller, spoke to Mr. Weasley briefly, and led them out of the main hall to conduct their business in private. Griphook would take care of the young champion's companions.

Bill crouched down next to Harry and whispered, "you've made quite the impression on the goblins with your actions yesterday. My family is far too poor to warrant special attention like that without your influence. I've never seen goblins take so kindly to a wizard before."

"I don't really understand it either. I was just doing the right thing, after all they've done for me."

"You don't know how unusual it is for a wizard to genuinely appreciate a goblin's aid. Most wizards think themselves superior to other races, as you may have noticed."

Harry nodded. Even in the short time he had been standing here, he had heard at least three wizards shouting abuse at the goblin bankers. No one was foolish enough to draw a wand, but the contempt was evident.

* * *

When the Weasleys returned, still looking a tad surprised at their cordial treatment, the group left the bank and weaved their way to Madam Malkin's. Harry's robes fit well, and the male Weasleys would be using spares, but Ginny had outgrown hers over the summer.

Harry well remembered the bustling owner of the shop, and her penchant for asking questions and assuming the answer. It appeared Ginny was about to have a similar experience.

"Hogwarts robes for you dear? My, but you look so young." She scurried down the aisles. It was exactly like Harry's first visit until, much to embarrasment of Ginny, it was not.

"I'll let your robes hang a bit loose to start. If you're anything like your mother, I expect you will fill out rather early. And keep filling, if you catch my meaning, dear."

With her face as red as her hair, Ginny managed to squeak out "I'm only ten." She studiously avoided Harry's eyes as Madam Malkin tutted and brought the robes in some.

Harry was unfazed, having missed the subtext of the exchange entirely. Molly, however, looked as though something had just occurred to her as she glanced between her only daughter and the Boy-Who-Lived. Clearly, Ginny had a large crush on Harry, given what little she knew about the saviour of the Wizarding World. But Molly's epiphany was about her own misjudgments. After all, had she not encouraged Ginny's infatuation from a young age? It was one thing to allow her daughter to swoon at the idea of a famous wizard falling in love with her, and another thing entirely for Molly to encourage such behavior when she knew it would only make Harry uncomfortable. He was such a sweet boy, if Bill was to believed.

It would be a strike against Molly's pride if she did not sit Ginny down and correct her opinion of Harry and distinguish fact from fiction. If any crush came about later, she wanted her daughter to fall for the real Harry Potter, not the character in all the storybooks. _That,_ she thought, would be more likely to succeed if indeed any feelings were returned.

* * *

After Ginny's blush had retreated from her face, and the group had retreated from the chaos of Madam Malkin's, Ron called out that he needed a cage for Scabbers. At the Burrow, the rat roamed free, and stayed tucked in Rons breast pocket when out in public on days like this one. At Hogwarts, where cats were among the preferred companions for students, he would require some sort of sanctuary.

They arrived at the Magical Menagerie, where Harry was happy to see a familiar reptilian face occupying one of the many glass enclosures. He couldn't speak to the constrictor, as doing so would reveal a secret he was not quite ready to make public, but he commented aloud that the snake looked well fed. He winked at the great snake, and the great snake, recognizing the boy by his distinctive eyes, winked back.

"Many thanksss, Ssspeaker. I am healthier now than before."

Harry smiled in response, but made no reply.

At the counter, Scabbers was being difficult as Ron attempted to fish him from his resting place.

with a yelp, Ron withdrew his bloodied finger.

"He bloody well bit me!

"Language, Ronald!" his mother scolded.

"Perhaps he'll allow me to coax him out. I've dealt with rats before myself," Remus chimed in. Scabbers shrieked and leapt out of hiding. Landing roughly on the ground, he made a valiant effort to flee. Remus was faster.

"Stupefy!"

The red light of the spell reached its target, a credit to the werewolf's aim. Lupin approached the unconscious creature and picked it up gently to return to the youngest male Weasley. Just then he felt a chill, and a flood of recognition swept him off his feet, quite literally, as he stumbled and fell forward.

"Shit!" he swore loudly, startling just about everyone in the room.

"Language! Please!" Molly shouted over him.

"Enough! We need to call the aurors immediately! I'm sorry Molly, but this is a matter of life and death for two very dear friends of mine. I don't have time to explain, but we need to keep this rat in our sights." He turned to the shopkeeper. "Might we use your floo to make a call to the MLE?"

"Well, 'course, sir. I won't make no fuss 'bout it."

"Thank you. I promise you good business if this goes as planned." He made his way, rat in hand, to the fire. "On second thought, perhaps you ought to make the call, Bill. I'm known to some of the more intolerant aurors, and I want this done with all due haste."

Bill took a pinch of green powder from the mantle, threw it into the fire, and called the aurors. His face disappeared for a few moments as he explained that they had an emergency at the shop, before withdrawing to let the aurors through.

"What's the situation here?" The new arrival called. He was in his late thirties, perhaps, though he was already bald, and his dark skin shone with sweat, as if he had just come from fighting a fire. Perhaps he had.

"We've caught an unregistered animagus"

Harry's eyes went wide as he finally caught up to the situation. "That's Peter?"

"If I'm not mistaken, yes. I've seen his form enough times to recognize it. He has a black patch of fur on his face in the same spot his human form has a mole."

Balthasar whispered in Harry's ear, unseen, "You should have let me eat him. I knew there was sssomething wrong with that rat."

The auror nodded in response to Lupin's declaration, not having heard the private conversation. Unregistered animagi were rare, thankfully, but the trouble they could cause was enough to warrant his presence here.

" _Homenum Revelio_ " Seven beams of light struck the Weasleys, another two hit Harry and Remus, and one hit the man behind the counter. A final faded light struck the rat in Moony's hands, and the werewolf growled in response. He didn't know what was going on, exactly, but his suspicions had proved true thus far, and he would hardly be surprised if the true betrayer of the Potters was in his hands. He had always trusted Wormtail the least. A rat through and through, it seemed.

"It seems you were correct. Do you know the identity of this wizard? I believe you called him Peter?"

"Peter Pettigrew, believed to be dead at the hands of Sirius Black, but obviously very much alive." He turned to Harry. "I think we ought to read that will sooner rather than later, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I should think so."

The auror headed them off. "You'll have to come with me first, I'm afraid. If this is Pettigrew, it will mean we've had an innocent man locked up for ten years. Madam Bones will want to be certain about this." He held out his hand to take the rat from Remus. When he had the animagus in custody, he cast another spell to keep Peter sleeping until he was secured for questioning.

"Of course." Moony turned towards the speechless Weasleys. "I am terribly sorry about all this. I had hoped to have a day off from secrets and earth-shattering events, but Magic has its own plans. Bill knows enough to fill you all in, I believe. I'll have to leave you all to it. Thank you for meeting with us. It really was a pleasure."

With that, Remus, Harry, and a curious Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the floo and stepped into the Ministry of Magic.

Kingsley left to have Peter transformed by force and begin the interrogation after he had escorted the pair to the office of Amelia Bones. Only then did Harry realize he had stepped into the office of his future wife's family.

"Oh shit. Bones?" He whispered to Moony.

"The same one you're thinking of, yes. I would recommend a more civil tongue when she gets here."

A strong voice behind them made Harry jump. "It may be a bit late for that, Remus." Madam Bones entered the office. "It is good to see you after all these years, but I'm told the circumstances could hardly be worse." She met Harry's gaze before her eyes traced upward to his scar. "It seems I've missed quite a lot recently. Fill me in."

Lupin did so, explaining both Harry's adoption and the more recent events which led to their current condition as witnesses. When he was finished, the Director of the Department of Law Enforcement seemed to size them up, as if she could determine the truth of it all herself with a look. Harry was oddly reassured by her confidence in her chosen work.

She addressed Harry directly. "When this matter is resolved, I would very much like to meet with you, Mr. Potter, to discuss private family matters." She didn't look angry, much to Harry's relief.

"I would be happy to, Madam. Will the Heiress Bones be joining us?"

"She will. She's been rather eager to meet you, as a matter of fact." She grinned slightly at Harry's reddening complexion.

"I look forward to it as well."

Kingsley rushed into the office a moment later with the news. "It's really him. He confessed under verituserum. Cleared Black's name as well."

Much more calmly than her underling, Madam Bones made her reply. "It would seem the Ministry's made quite a large mistake. I have no doubt the following days will be... exciting."

* * *

In the Headmaster's Office in Hogwarts, a very different mistake had just been discovered, and it was anything but exciting news. Today was meant to be a perfect day for Albus Dumbledore. It was the day he would return Harry Potter to the world of magic and in doing so, guide him towards his destiny as his successor.

Yet the day had gone from bad to worse almost as soon as it began. On arrival at number four, Privet Drive, he found a note condemning the house. By the looks of the place, it had either been abandoned for many years or broken down with the help of subtle magic. Perhaps both. In either case, Harry Potter was not here. That had left him to ask the neighbors where he might find the Dursleys' new residence.

* * *

 _"Those despicable people?! They went to prison years ago, for abusing that boy they kept locked up. Called him a delinquent, when they had him. Turns out he was the only normal one in the house."_

 _"Harry Potter was abused?!"_

 _"Was that the boy's name? They only ever called him Freak."_

 _Dumbledore left to find answers and the Dursleys, for they were certain to be in one place..._

 _"No visitors allowed," a disgruntled security officer barked at Dumbledore._

 _"I'm a legal representative for their victim. I have an appointment." A mild confundus charm leapt from Dumbledore's wand as he spoke._

 _"Very well, but make it quick."_

 _He entered the cell shared by the husband and wife. Vernon had lost nearly a half of his body weight during his imprisonment, though his wife appeared unchanged in her composition._

 _"What are y_ ou _doing here!?" Petunia shrieked_

 _"I am looking for answers. And you are going to give them to me. I left Harry with you for mutual protection. Now I hear you abused the poor boy. Look where that's gotten you. I have never been so remarkably disgusted by anyone in my entire life! You will tell me the truth, or I shall be sorely tempted to take it from you."_

 _Petunia, perhaps being the more sensible of the two, immediately began talking. An enraged Albus Dumbledore was not something she wanted to witness, given all that Lily had once said about the man's power, and the heavy feeling his anger created._

 _Albus listened. He fought revulsion and bloodlust at every turn, and then he quite simply left. For the first time in almost a century, Albus Dumbledore had seriously considered killing a muggle._

* * *

At the moment, the same venerated wizard was draped over his desk in a drunkenness only known to the guiltiest of men. Harry Potter, the boy he had sworn to protect should anything happen to Lily and James, was tortured by the same people Dumbledore himself had tasked with keeping him safe. In all his wisdom, he had failed the boy, and he would live with that burden even as he lived with the guilt of his sister's death. He had many mistakes to learn from. Whether he would actually learn the lesson was not yet clear. First, he had to find Harry.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Another one done. It was meant to be a filler before the Potters' will revealed Wormtail's involvement, but I felt this came more naturally. As you might have deduced, I am not writing a story about an Evil Dumbledore. He doesn't strike me as the sort, and fics that do so often make him stupid enough to get caught by teenagers when he's theoretically been manipulating the entire Wizarding World for decades. I think he is a man considered infallible by so many that he himself forgets he is not._

 _Also, Molly Weasley is not some conniving bitch out to get Harry's fortune, she's a mother trying to raise her children well. She may want Ginny to be with Harry some day, but she's not about to dope him up with love potions or such to get the job done. Mrs. Weasley is one of my least favorite characters in canon, especially with her treatment of Hermione in GoF, Sirius in OotP, and Fleur in DH. She's overbearing, scheming, and many other unpleasant things, but she's also fiercely protective of her family._

 _Susan meets her intended next chapter, so stay tuned._

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


	13. A Rat's Tale and Intended Consequences

Chapter 13: A Rat's Tale and Intended Consequences

* * *

Back at the store, Bill was preparing for what was gearing up to be a very difficult explanation. He led his family through the alley and back to the Leaky Cauldron, claimed a private table, and cast a number of privacy charms. He drew a breath, still searching for the right words.

He began slowly. "Most people would remember James Potter and his group of friends from Hogwarts, if they ever met them. The four of them together called themselves the Marauders. James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew... and Sirus Black." Mr. Weasley nodded mutely. He knew this already, though his children certainly didn't, if their gasps of fear at the known murderer's name were any indication.

Bill continued, knowing this was mostly background information, "In their fifth year, all but Remus became animagi in secret so that they could spend full moons with him, after discovering he was a werewolf." More gasps from the younger Weasleys, and two matching blinks from his parents, whose suspicions had just been confirmed. "In their seventh year, they unanimously decided to join the war effort after graduation. It was at this time that they formed a bond, with Lily Evan's expertise, that would act as the antithesis to You-Know-Who's hold over his servants. All four were bound by the symbol which they placed on their right arms, opposite of the Death Eaters' Dark Mark. The death of any Marauder would alert the others, and provide the location of the attack."

Bill waited while his family processed the information. He was reluctant to include his youngest siblings, but if they would be spending time with Harry, they had to know the whole story.

"On the night of You-Know-Who's attack on the Potters, one bond was broken. Remus told me once that the pain was worse than any of his transformations. The next day, Sirius black was captured for the betrayal and the murder of Peter Pettigrew. Remus was unaware of this second death until the news broke later that day."

"How come he didn't feel it that time?" the second eldest, Charlie, asked.

"Before today, we had no idea. Remus suspected the death of James and betrayal by Sirius overwhelmed the bond, since it was formed on the basis of brotherhood. Now, we can guess a different reason. I'll give you a hint. Peter Pettigrew's animagus form was a rat."

Fred and George's eyes widened in perfect unison, before looking at each other to confirm their new theory.

"Peter Pettigrew was Scabbers!?"

"It would seem so. Remus would have seen Peter's form dozens of times. If anyone could recognize him, it's Remus. Pettigrew must have faked his death. No body was ever recovered, only a..."

"Finger," Arthur whispered, almost reverently.

"Exactly. Which means if he's not dead, Sirius didn't kill him, and is likely not the betrayer after all."

Molly Weasley sat quietly, mind racing. She was feeling ill all of a sudden. A man had been living in her home for almost a decade, free to roam wherever he wished as a rat, and likely shifting back when left alone. Her thoughts turned to her baby, her sweet Ginevra. _Sweet Merlin... what if..._ She shook her head and stood up, already making her way to the floo. She needed to know, now, and there was only one way to get the answers she needed.

"Ministry of Magic!" she shouted, stepping into the green flames. The fire in her eyes shone brighter.

The rest of the family let her go without a word. Arthur had seen the look his wife sent towards his daughter, and his mind had followed the same tracks. If Peter Pettigrew was truly still alive, he would soon wish he'd never been born.

* * *

Remus and Harry had just finished giving their official statements when Molly made it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Storming her way toward Madam Bones' office, she had the look of a vengeful demon any mother would recognize.

"Where is he?" she demanded, her finger pointed at the tall woman behind the desk.

"Pettigrew is being held in the Ministry holding cells. He is under maximum security."

"He's going to need more than that," Molly muttered, turning away to hunt down her target.

The door to the office closed before she reached it, the soft click of the lock echoing in the now deadly quiet room.

"Just where do you think you're going, Mrs. Weasley?" Amelia Bones asked, rising from her chair.

"That... filth may have touched my daughter, Madam, and I'm going to kill him for it if he did." He voice was steady, with the unsettling calm that promised grave determination.

The Director's face paled, no doubt considering her niece and what she would do to any man who dared to lay a finger on her.

"We have a few minutes before the veritaserum wears off. Follow me, and you'll have your answers."

The two furious women left quickly, leaving Harry and Remus behind.

"Remind me never to make either of them angry, ever," Harry whispered in the following silence.

Moony only nodded his agreement.

* * *

Wormtail, as he had formerly been known, didn't bother to raise his eyes at the sound of fast-approaching footsteps. He was exhausted. First, he had been woken early by Ron Weasley, to whom he had recently been "gifted." Then there had been the trip through the floo, which felt far worse for a rat than it did for a human. What could have then been a relaxing day of shopping with the promise of treats had turned potentially deadly at the sound of a familiar voice. _Moony had not been pleased to discover me_ , Wormtail thought, grimacing at the pounding in his head, left over from the rapid stunner. And now here he sat, after being pumped so full of truth serum that even his thoughts refused to lie. _I am a dead man walking._

The sound of footsteps stopped just outside his cell, and he lifted his head just in time to see the second fiercest glare he had ever witnessed, coming from none other than Molly Weasley. It was the Bones matriarch, however, that spoke first.

"Did you ever molest Ginevra Weasley"

 _Oh fuck._ "No."

"Did you ever spy on her, or witness her in any indecent fashion?

 _Double fuck._ "Yes." His voice was impossibly quiet, but Molly Weasley heard him.

It was lucky for Wormtail that Mrs. Weasley was too enraged to remember she had a wand, and instead chose to lunge at him with deadly intent. Only the quick action of Madam Bones saved him from being mauled to death on the spot. As it were, he soiled himself in fear when he looked into his savior's eyes.

"It will be the Kiss for you, I think."

Amelia Bones left the cell with an unconscious Molly Weasley in tow, after a quick series of questions. By the time she was finished, the truth serum had worn off, but it was far too late for Wormtail to care. Amelia had almost let the woman kill her newest prisoner, but far too much was at stake. This arrest was bigger than any one family's revenge could overcome. An inmate in Azkaban would have to be retrieved immediately, and two trials would need to be called. _The Press is going to have a field day._

* * *

The Weasleys who had been left behind conducted the rest of their shopping hastily, with Bill paying for Harry's supplies himself. They received a message from Tom the barman upon their return to the Leaky Cauldron, telling them that they would be met by their companions at the Burrow. They left immediately, and with nary a word spoken between them.

When they arrived, the cool evening air greeted them. The eight of them hurried into the house and found Molly dozing in an armchair, with Harry and Remus seated, awake, on the couch.

"Calming potion. A strong one, by the looks of it," Remus started, by way of explanation, as he stood to meet them. He met Arthur's gaze and flicked his eyes toward the kitchen. Arthur followed the man out of the room, leaving his children and Harry to sort through the day's purchases.

Remus wasted no time. "He never touched her."

Arthur let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank Merlin for small mercies."

Remus grimaced uncomfortably. He wasn't finished. "He didn't touch her... but he didn't ignore her either. He's been... watching her since she turned eight. I'm so sorry, Arthur... if I had only visited sooner. After the war things were... and then when Harry showed up I..."

"Hush, Remus. You and I both know it wouldn't have changed a thing. Might have even sent the bastard running before we could catch him. Thank you for telling me. I think I'll let Ginny remain ignorant of it for now. The world's injustices can wait a while longer."

"As you wish. Harry knows as well, but he won't say a word."

"He seems like a good lad."

Remus smiled for the first time since morning. "He's the best son a man could have. He makes me prouder every day, and I'm sure James would agree. Even the goblins like him, it seems."

"So I noticed. Or at least I noticed Bill noticing," he chuckled.

"Bill is a sharp young man, and he's been like a brother to Harry since they met. Harry was more nervous about pleasing your family than he was about... anything else."

Mr. Weasley noted the hesitation, but allowed it to go unmentioned. He had good enough reason to trust Remus, though they had interacted rarely over the course of the war. Dumbledore had kept the majority of Remus' missions top secret. Now he knew why. Even among the Order there were a fair number of bigots when it came to those with lycanthropy. Werewolf he may be, but Remus Lupin was as good a man as Arthur had ever met.

"Would you stay for dinner? I'm sure Molly will want to speak with you before you go, and Harry's time with the others was cut short."

"Thank you, Arthur. We'd be happy to stay, if it's not an imposition."

The two men wandered back to the living room, where the children were chatting amongst themselves. Harry was saying little, but smiling happily as the others carried on the conversation.

Finally, the hectic day came to a gentle end and Harry made is was home with Moony, safe and sound.

* * *

The next day, Remus invited Ron back to the London flat, with Harry's enthusiastic consent. If he was going to be in the same year as Ron, it would be nice to have him as a friend to make the transition less daunting. Then again, the idea of really having a friend was daunting in its own way. Harry had very little experience with children his age, and only a day's worth of knowledge about his magical peers. Most importantly, he had no idea how much of his history to share with Ron.

Mr. Weasley brought his son to the flat before work, so that the morning could be spent with his newest acquaintance. Ron, for his part, was almost as nervous as Harry. He had been told to mind his manners a dozen or more times by his mother, and his father had been clear that he wasn't to treat Harry any differently than he would treat a less famous boy his age. Easier said than done, since Harry Potter was already a war hero at age one, and an international icon by age eleven.

"Hello, Ron. It's nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too, Harry." Ron looked around the flat as Lupin ushered him in. It was cleaner than the Burrow, but not in the way some snobby families liked. It looked like a home, and felt as welcoming as its inhabitants. He smiled. _Maybe this will be okay._

Harry led Ron to his room, already desperate to end the short silence between them.

"So... Ron, do you like quidditch?" A huge smile spread across Ron's face, and Harry thought to himself, _Maybe this will be okay_.

It turned out that Ron loved quidditch more than anything else, and was more than happy to wax poetic about the Chudley Cannons and their history of heartbreaking defeat at every turn. Since Harry had been learning about quidditch because of his dad, he knew at least enough to keep Ron talking. Once they settled in, Harry decided to take a chance and introduce him to Balthasar. Harry's familiar had been getting snippy about his continued secrecy, and though he liked his enclosure and his magically expanded pocket in Harry's mokeskin bag, Balthasar was far more social in nature than his master, and wanted company just as much.

"Would you like to meet my familiar? I couldn't show him yesterday because I thought he would eat Scabbers, and then when Scabbers wasn't a rat anymore I was too surprised to do much of anything."

"Why would your familiar eat a rat, Harry?" Ron asked warily. He knew some of the bigger spiders ate rodents. Hopefully it was just a cat.

"He's a snake."

"Oh. Well, then that's all right I guess. I don't mind snakes much, except that they remind me of Slytherin."

"Why would that bother you?"

"Well... they say there's not a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. Even You-Know-Who was one. He could talk to snakes, I heard, and that's why snakes bother most people. It's the hissing that scares them." He shuddered noticeably in discomfort.

Harry hesitated and frowned. All of a sudden telling Ron he could talk to snakes seemed like a terrible idea. Not to mention that sharing a talent with Voldemort was something he had only recently come to terms with himself.

Outside, listening in, Lupin sighed softly. This wasn't how he hoped things would go. He decided to save Harry from the discomfort. A quick knock on Harry's door ended the discussion inside as Harry called, "Come in."

Remus decided to wing it. "I was just thinking we might take a trip over to the pitch, if you boys want. The weather today is perfect for flying, and your father tells me you're something of an expert, Ron." Ron looked to Harry eagerly, practically begging him to say yes.

"That sounds like fun. Thanks, dad." Harry's smile wasn't as full as usual. Ron hurried to the door to grab his coat, thanking Remus as he went. A soft hissing from behind Harry, loud enough for Remus to hear, seemed to amuse Harry.

"Ssstupid prat. We should have invited his sssister."

Harry almost felt like agreeing, but held himself back. Ron wasn't so bad, really. Being afraid of Voldemort was understandable, even if Ron's dislike of Slytherin as a whole was a bit misguided. In any case, Ron wasn't going to be his best friend ever after only one day together. A playmate was almost as good, for now. At least Harry could spend the morning flying before his meeting with the Regent and Heiress Bones after lunch.

* * *

Amelia Bones had been her niece's guardian for eleven years, and she had never once seen Susan so emotional. In the past day, she couldn't count the number of times she had heard Susan crying in her room or laughing with her friend Hannah through the floo.

"But Auntie, what if he - "

"He won't, dear."

"Well what if he doesn't -"

"He will, dear. I've met both him and his father, and they both seem like perfect gentlemen. There's no way Harry will hate you for being yourself."

"But then why would he ask to meet us so soon? What if he just wants to get this over with so he doesn't have to see me till Hogwarts."

Amelia sighed and rubbed her temples. Between Susan's love life and the Pettigrew case, she was beginning to think _she_ was the one who just wanted to get this over with. Still, as Regent of House Bones, the meeting with Mr. Potter was her duty as much as the criminal case was hers as Director of the MLE.

The time of the meeting was nearly upon them. Luckily, the goblins had seen fit to provide a direct portkey. They were not usually so charitable, and she was sure there would be some sort of catch involved, but she was grateful that navigating the alley would not be on the day's agenda.

"Come, Susan, it's time to meet him."

Susan hurried to wipe away the last of her tears before taking hold of the portkey and her Auntie's hand. The parchment in their grasp began to glow a soft blue before a tug around her naval pulled her away from home and into Gringotts.

They landed in a private room where a goblin was waiting for them.

"Madam Bones and Heiress Bones, Gringotts welcomes you," he said, bowing.

Amelia raised her eyebrow, but made no other outward sign of surprise. "Your welcome is most gracious. House Bones thanks you for your hospitality."

"The others are awaiting us in the next room. Please follow me." The goblin led them through a short hall and knocked twice on a large burnished door. When it opened, he gestured for them to enter, and he himself remained outside.

"Welcome Madam Bones. Welcome Heiress Bones. Please join us," called the only goblin in the room. "I am account Manager Riptooth, and I will be presiding over this meeting on Gringotts' behalf."

As the Bones women entered, Harry and Remus stood. Protocol saw to it that Harry be the one to introduce himself first, as he technically outranked Lupin by a significant margin.

"Regent Bones, it is nice to see you again, on what I hope is a more pleasant occasion than the last." He kissed Amelia's proffered hand, between her first and second knuckles. He turned next to Susan.

"My Lady," He bowed deeply, blushing slightly. "You look even more beautiful than I imagined."

Susan, blushing madly, dropped into a curtsy. "Thank you, Milord."

Harry smiled. Susan was unassuming enough to put him at ease. "Harry, please. Just Harry. May I introduce my guardian and father, Mr. Remus Lupin."

Moony copied Harry's earlier greeting to Madam Bones, and smiled warmly at Susan as he introduced himself.

Out of the corner of her eye, Susan saw her Auntie grinning at her. "I told you so," she mouthed. Susan only blushed harder.

"Excellent. Now that you've been introduced, let us get to the heart of the matter. As you are no doubt aware, a contract exists between your two houses, and it has very clear terms. The two of you must marry no later than one year following Heiress Bones' majority. Harry will assume the role of Lord Bones at that time, and any progeny will carry the Bones family name. However, as I have already had this discussion with House Potter, it is my duty to inform House Bones that two other active contracts exist. Young Harry will choose two other wives."

The small smile that Susan had been wearing since meeting Harry fell suddenly.

Inside, Susan was just barely holding back tears. He had been so sweet and so handsome. _I thought he actually liked me... it was too good to be true._ Being told that she would have to share Harry was something she hadn't prepared for, even though she was aware of the possibility in the future. _He wants someone better... I'm just the one he got stuck with._

Harry had no experience with emotional girls, but he did have some experience with his magic, and he felt it pulling him toward Susan. He saw her smile fade, and saw the hurt look that replaced it. _I think I may have made a mistake already. How would I feel if she told me she would love other wizards, before I even got to know her?_

"Susan?" Harry dropped to his knees in front of his intended, ready to face the consequences of his earlier choices. He ignored the calculating look from Madam Bones, after noting its coldness. The girl in front of him was more important. He could feel his magic sharing Susan's hurt. Hurt which he had caused, if only by accident.

"Susan, please look at me."

"Yes, Milord." Susan looked up, lip trembling. She wouldn't cry. She would act like a Lady, even if she meant nothing to her Lord.

Harry flinched at her formality, knowing he had to join her in it. "I am sorry, My Lady. I accepted the other contracts to gain my freedom. I realize now it has cost you dearly. I beg your forgiveness, and offer my vow that I will break the contracts to be yours alone, if you wish it." Harry was almost surprised by how much he actually meant it.

"Absolutely not, Mr. Potter." Harry did not respond to the sound of Amelia's voice, instead keeping his gaze locked with his betrothed.

"Lord Potter, I would advise strongly against such actions. You could lose your magic. Violently." Riptooth was anxious for his own sake as well as the young Lord's. The goblins who now flocked to him would be gravely insulted if their Champion forsook his magic.

"Why would you do that? You don't even know me, Milord."

"I know your magic," Harry said plainly. "I can feel it when I look at you. It feels like ... coming home. I would sacrifice my magic for your happiness in an instant. Susan, I have never felt so strongly about anyone, except maybe Moony. He's family, just like you will be. I will gladly be your husband and a squib, if you'll have me."

"No."

"No?" Harry recoiled as if struck.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean it like that!" Susan cried, tears now finally breaking through. "I mean I won't make you do that. I... I was being selfish, and you reminded me that I have no need to be. If you promise to love me, I promise to share that love with others."

Harry looked into her honey brown eyes, still moist with tears, and decided she was very beautiful. _Her magic is beautiful too._

"I promise."

Light poured out of Harry's skin, stretching toward Susan as she watched, awestruck. _A magical vow? But he only promised... it must be something more._ Susan reached out to accept Harry's magic, and gasped as it touched her skin. She felt Harry's magic mingle with hers, though she had never truly felt her own magic so closely. A warm feeling settled her nerves. She giggled as Harry's joy at her acceptance rippled across their connection. _He was right. It feels like coming home._

Susan smiled, and her future husband smiled back.

* * *

 **AN:** _Admittedly this chapter jumped around a lot, but since it's been months since the last update due to writers block and a hectic life, I decided to just get something out. Writing is cathartic, and I needed that. I hope you all enjoy. I won't tell you what to expect next chapter, because it's still a surprise to me._

 _Cheers,_

 _DamWaters_


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